#no green beer will be served

[sytoran]

𝐁𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐊 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 | n.romanoff

you visit the strip club downtown with your co-workers to let off some steam, but it seems like you've caught the eye of none other than the 'black widow'.

🖤 pairing: sub!stripper!natasha x fem!cop!reader

🖤 word count: 3145

🖤 note: SMUT (18+), this one been marinating in my drafts like im preserving wine

main m.list | AO3

You don’t know why you let your co-workers drag you to a strip club on a Friday night, but you’re sure as hell not complaining.

There are plenty of women, everywhere. Women in bikinis, women in stockings, women in thigh garters. You're in wonderland, honestly.

Hey, cops needed to let off some steam too, okay?

The cheers and hoots surround your table as Carol gets a lap dance by a brunette stripper. The blonde woman is blushing – you didn’t know she could do that – but she’s having the time of her life.

As Carol slides a bill between the stripper's tits with no lack of embarrassment, you laugh and get up to go get another drink.

It wasn't an overly rare occasion for you to be letting loose, but it was infrequent enough that your co-workers quite physically hauled you to this adult entertainment facility after a particularly taxing case.

ULTRAVIOLET was the most popular strip club in Queens, New York City. They served both men and women, with sparkling reviews about customer service and atmospheric aesthetics.

Carol, Valkyrie, and Maria would simply not shut up about the 'Black Widow', who was supposedly the sexiest, most stunning stripper any of them had ever laid their eyes on.

"She fuckin' looked at me in the eye," Valkyrie had moaned on a Monday morning, speaking of this stripper they so revered. "I can't look at anyone the same no more." 

You were about to make a quick-witted retort about Valkyrie’s dramatization of mere eye contact, but Maria had only nodded solemnly in agreement and you had to admit you didn’t take Maria’s judgment lightly.

Aside from the talk about the Black Widow, you were hit with the novelty of the strip club once you stepped foot within.

As the Commanding Officer of the New York City Police Department, 104th Precinct, the boundless freeness of this place was quite a sight to behold. What with the heavy music, and the beer-tinged scent of the air, and nude women – the sensory overload did wonders to take your mind off work.

"You here alone?"

You spin on the barstool at the sound of a sultry voice. You have to physically stop your jaw from dropping to the floor at the sight of a breathtakingly gorgeous woman.

Scantily clad in matching sequined undergarments and fishnet stockings, stands a redheaded woman leaning against the bar counter, looking at you with magnificent green eyes.

"I'm not alone- I mean, not in that way, because I'm just here with friends. Well, co-workers, but they're my friends as well-"

Splendid job, Deputy Inspector Y/N L/N, you say internally. You can look in the eye of murderers and terrorists, but one look at a pretty woman and you're fuckin' gone.

"You're cute," the lady interrupts with a small tilt of her head, saving you from digging your own grave further.

You swallow harshly, feeling her manicured nails trace the curvature of your bicep. 

"Just cute?" you ask, trying not to sound too hopeful. Her fingers move down to the collar of your white shirt, fiddling with the fabric. Call it stupidity, but you feel the urge to reciprocate the contact. You move your hands to her hips.

The lady smirks. "Hm, maybe not just cute. But I think you need to show me." 

The redhead hasn't broken eye-contact all the while. Your eyes feel like they're burning. You slide your left hand down to the hem of her panties, and tug slightly. When her panties snap against her skin, she jolts with the impact.

You smirk with victory, pulling her in by her waist so your mouth is pressed against her skin. "I'll show you," you murmur, kissing the warm with a fervour you didn't know you possessed. 

The woman's breath hitches and she pulls your head closer. You accept the invitation, beginning to leave a hickey on the sensitive spot of her neck.

After a few moments of your concentrated work on her neck, the woman finally lets out a sigh-turned-moan of pleasure, and you nearly pass out from how sexy it is.

She tugs your head away and pulls you in by the collar for a kiss. Your eyelids flutter close.

Your quavering breaths meet in a frantic harmony, and you want to explore her mouth, but she ends it as quickly as it begins.

"What's your name?" the redhead asks, warm breath on your lips. "Y/N," you say hoarsely, trying and failing not to sound like you were left high and dry. 

You slide your hands to the bare skin of her torso, silently delighting in the way it raises goosebumps. You need to get more of her, feel more of her. "Do I get to know your name?" you ask.

The lights in the strip club suddenly dim, and the music takes on a far more sensual tone. 

The woman slides out of your grasp like sand falling through your fingertips, and you're left with the ghost of her burning embrace. Your question remains unanswered.

"Let's give it up for our next dancer," the bar owner says into his mic, and the noise dramatically fades away. "The Black Widow!"

Blue and violet lights dance in your vision as the woman who had kissed you just moments before, approaches the stage, hips swaying in time to the music. 

Your eyes narrow, and you down the bourbon in one shot. You'd need it.

When the beat drops, The Black Widow throws her head back and she begins to move.

God, it's criminally sensual, the way she danced, unlike anything you'd ever seen before. You couldn't put into words the allure she possessed.

The redheaded woman runs a hand over her own skin, dipping into every curve, as the music crescendos, and you know you're not the only patron with their heart thrumming in their chest.

When she begins twirling on the pole, you see men clearing out a month's paycheck for this divine woman, and honestly? You don't blame them.

Money gets flung onto the stage and catcalls get yelled as perhaps the most erotic scene unfolds before your very eyes.

When The Black Widow lifts up a thigh to show off her tight stockings, you're unable to hold back any longer, drawn to the stage like a moth to a flame.

Sitting back down into your original seat, leaving the empty glass of bourbon behind, all else fades away. Your world stumbles on its axis as the woman makes her way over to you, running a hand through her luscious locks of hair.

Your mouth dries up as The Black Widow turns around in front of you and fully bends over, exposing the delicious curve of her ass. You sink back into your seat, bringing two fingers to your lips in silent contemplation. Internally, you're fighting the goddamned World War II with your libido.

She's still swaying in beat to the music, and spins around as the sound of a saxophone starts playing. The last thing you see is a playful wink from the gorgeous woman before an ample asset of tits covers your vision.

Fuck, you're not going to survive.

Your nose quite literally gets buried between her tits as the woman climbs onto you. You would pay to see your co-workers' faces right now. How would you ever face them at work again?

“Get it, Y/N!” you hear Maria call in the distance, and a shrill whistle follows. 

You smirk against the pair of tits in your face, inhaling the scent of her perfume, and her sweat, and simlply her. You let the stripper work her magic.

After a few more minutes of your paradise, she pulls away, skin flushed. 

You regard her with a darkened gaze, pulling out your wallet. You stuff a bill in the side of her thong, making sure to snap the fabric in the same spot as you had previously.

The woman's face flickers in recognition. She shakes her head, then dips her head down to whisper in your ear.

"11pm. Room 8. Private session. Don't be late."

Like it was planned, the music comes to an end. The redhead doesn't wait for your response before she gets off your lap, raising her arm in acknowledgement of the roaring cheers. Her hips sway as she walks away from you, and you don’t even pretend that your eyes are glued to her curves.

Money gets thrown onto the stage once again, all in hopes of earning a fraction of what you had just experienced. 

"Holy shit, Y/N, what was that?" Carol yells at you over the noise, slapping your back. You shrug plainly with a stupid smug smirk as Valkyrie whines in jealousy. 

Oh, you were so fucking ready for 11pm.

.

"A private, fuckin' session for Deputy Inspector Y/N fucking L/N. Who would'a thought," Carol slurs, banging a shot glass onto the round table.

You roll your eyes at Carol's dramatization. It wasn't as if your status as Commanding Officer steered women away from you – in fact, some of them were quite into it.

But for your prevalently horny friends who had women over just about every week, you were considered starved of sweet pussy and were in dire need of quenching that thirst.

So when you broke the news that the most sought-after stripper in the most famous strip club in Queens, had just offered you a private session, lo and behold the chaos that ensued.

"Shit, girl, I would get down on my knees for that lady. You are one lucky bastard," Valkyrie adds in, ruffling your hair as you grumble. 

"You'd get down on your knees for any woman, actually," Maria says, the usually composed woman more laid back in the environment of the strip club. Or maybe it was the alcohol.

Valkyrie lets out an aggrieved noise, sitting up to whack Maria's arm, but in her drunken state she misses and slaps Carol's drink out of her hands. 

"Oi!" The blonde cries out indignantly, looking at the drink that had splattered onto her clothing. 

Carol grabs Maria's martini out of her hands and throws it at Valkyrie in retaliation.

Before you know it, your three idiot friends have gotten temporarily suspended from the strip club for 'causing a ruckus'.

Just like that, and the clock ticks down to eleven o’clock.

.

It’s 11pm, and you're overly aware of your police badge at your belt and your gun in your holster.

Or at least, you were, until Natasha swung one leg across your lap and sat herself down with an unspoken grace, effectively sitting on your lap. In the privacy of the enclosed room, you unashamedly stare down at her cleavage, eyes several hues darker than they were before.

“See something you like?” Natasha asks breathily, running her hands over her full breasts, pushing them up to elicit a reaction from you.

The moving lights in the dark room cast shadows, and when you back look up with a sinful smirk and half-lidded eyes, Natasha swears she feels herself get wet.

All the air in your lungs dissipates when Natasha begins grinding on your thigh in beat to the music, hips moving skilfully in the sexiest fashion imaginable. 

Fuck, this woman was going to be your demise.

Your hands feel like they’re on fire as you watch her put on a show, simply aching to move and touch. Natasha trails her fingertips down your tensed arms, running over the curve of your biceps. She smirks at the goosebumps it raises, her hands dwelling to the edge of your pants.

Your breath catches as her fingers find the outline of your police badge tucked underneath your shirt. The Black Widow looks up at you, expression a no-tell. “You on duty?”

“Nope.”

“Is that why you’ve got a gun in your belt?”

“Nah, that one’s just for pretty girls like you,” you respond slowly, hands tentatively going to rest on her thighs. When the smirk reappears on the stripper's face, you relax and let your shoulders untense.

“If you say so, officer,” she comments huskily, leaning forward to nip at your earlobe. The shiver runs through your bones. 

You’re about to counter with a quick retort of your own before Natasha begins grinding on that bulge in your pants, treating your gun like it was a strap.

“Shit,” you say breathlessly, hands burning at being unable to touch. Behind your back, your nails were digging into your palms so hard you swore you had already drawn blood.

Fuck, it was torture. 

Her pretty moans and breathy whines ring in your ears as she moves her hips roughly, a torment to your demise.

After a while, you come to the realisation that you can feel how wet Natasha is through her undergarments, soaked from having just dry-humped your thigh.

“Fuck me,” she says, and your throat dries up. “What?” you ask, dazedly, still staring at her bouncing tits in front of your face.

“I said, fuck me,” Natasha repeats, head tilting to the side, halting all her movements so you would look at her.

You splutter. “But the sign said–”

“What can I say, officer, you wanna make me break the rules.”

That’s all the confirmation you need before your hands can finally touch her, finally, meeting and warm skin and sweat droplets and everything you’d ever wanted. 

You let out a huff of amusement as Natasha wraps her pretty lips around your fingers and sucks, making lewd noises with her tongue. Your ears burn, now, having been tainted with the beautiful symphony of this woman’s pleasure.

“You’re very naughty,” you comment, your other hand slipping under her top to reach her full breasts. Palming at the mounds in your hand, you face moves to the bare skin of her collarbone and begin kissing it.

“Don’t make marks,” Natasha says breathlessly, when you let your teeth nick the soft skin there, and there’s a pit of desire in your stomach that growls in frustration, but you know you have to respect her wishes and instead move your mouth down to her chest.

Natasha doesn’t remember when you slipped off her bra, but she isn’t complaining about your haste and instead throws her head back when your mouth latches onto her breasts.

“Mhm, that feels good,” she moans, weaving her fingers through your hair and scratching at your scalp. You hum in acknowledgement against her flushed skin, your tongue paying special attention to her hardened buds.

When both your hands move to the underside of her thighs and lift her up, Natasha lets out an embarrassing squeak at the sudden change of position. But as you lay her down on the sofa with your body weight pressing into hers, those whimpers turn into filthy moans.

You stall for a moment, hovering above her with your silver necklace dangling right above her face. She looks so pretty like this, her hair all splayed out, the sheen of sweat on her skin making her look tantalizing.

Natasha catches your swinging necklace between her teeth, winking seductively at you, and you’re snapped out of your moment, a laugh taking over.

“Have I told you that you’re incredibly bad?” you say, in between kisses scattered between her breasts, down her sternum and to her stomach. 

“You- you have,” Natasha replies with some difficulty, as your kisses get lower and lower. “Maybe you should punish me for it, officer;” 

She shuts up when you slowly spread open her thighs, revealing the dripping heat that is Natasha’s cunt. You maintain eye contact with her as you lower your mouth to her pussy, her lust-filled stare making your head spin.

When your tongue meets her cunt, it was game over.

“Fuck,” Natasha moans, already unable to continue looking at you in the eye, hands moving to grip the cushion of the sofa. Her thighs clamp around your head, and you’re suffocating, but in a way that feels so good you could die in bliss.

You lap at her dripping cunt like you were starving, like you would die without it. Natasha’s moans get louder. You move your mouth in rocking motions, pushing your tongue further in with each thrust. 

“More,” she gasps out, and you quicken your pace, fingertips digging bruises into her plush thighs. In retrospect, you don’t remember how long you stay there, ravenously eating her out like your life depended on it. 

When you feel her breathing get faster and more shallow, breathy little whines that get louder and louder, and you know she’s about to cum.

Instead of gently bringing her to a high, you internally say fuck it and decide that if this was the one chance you had, with the most sought-after stripper in Queens, you were going to make it an unforgettable one.

You move your mouth up to wrap your lips around her swollen, throbbing clit, and you suck on it, hard. In tandem with that, you easily slide two fingers in, curling them inside her to hit that sweet spot. Natasha positively screams, and you swear it’s the most beautiful sound you’ve ever heard.

Her orgasm floods the lower half of your face and your fingers, and the little mewls of your name Natasha lets out as she comes down from her high is one you’d always remember.

Finally, you emerge from between Natasha’s thighs. Slowly, you kiss up her stomach and her breasts, up the way you came down from, and you meet Natasha’s blissed out face.

You take a moment to take in her tousled hair, her swollen kissable-pink lips, her smudged makeup, her shallow gasps for air, and the pure lust in her eyes.

Just like that, and another jolt of arousal hits you. Before you can act on it, Natasha pulls you into a messy kiss, hot and sweaty.

“You look so fucking good-” Natasha says in between the frantic meeting of your mouths. “With my cum all over your jaw.” 

You bite back a growl at her words, wanting to let her know just how exactly good you can make her cum. Natasha catches your hand that slides down to her wet cunt, before bringing it up and placing a kiss on your fingertips. “Our time is up,” she whispers, nodding to the clock behind you that now reads 11.31pm. “One private session lasts 30 minutes.”

This woman was going to be the death of you.

You turn back to The Black Widow with dilated pupils, slowly reaching into your pocket for that leather Saint Laurent wallet, and the ghost of a smirk on your lips.

In the wee hours of twilight the next day, you leave the strip club with your wallet emptied, a searing cramp in your hand, and the memory of an unforgettable woman whose real name you hadn’t even known.

Boy, you had one hell of a story to tell your friends. 

i think i'm not gonna taglists anymore, sorry yall. there's just so many usernames and i have to constantly update it :(

main m.list | AO3

#natasha romanoff x reader smut #natasha romanoff smut #bottom natasha romanoff #sub natasha romanoff #top reader #dom reader #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x y/n #natasha x reader #wlw smut #gxg smut #marvel #marvel women #x reader

[dsybouquet]

braindead about ceo! ellie who goes out with her managers for drinks after a day in the office. the first buttons of her white shirt open and the rest of her suit a bit losely, letting go of the work environment to enjoy herself.

after a drink, she notices you behind the counter, serving people, mixing drinks. something about you was so mesmerising.. she just couldn’t look away.

slowly she excused herself from her colleagues and walked over to the point of the counter where you were polishing glasses. she placed her glass on the counter, resting her arm next to it.

“mind refilling?”

she asked, causing you to look up and face her. a smirk painted on her lips as her green eyes met yours in the dimmed light of the bar.

“sure!”

you answered as kind as ever, smiling at the woman in front of you. you turned around to reach the liquor shelf, taking the whiskey down. ellies eyes fell on your short skirt, which in the front was covered by your apron.

you refilled her glass, asking if she needs anything else.

“what’s a girl like you doing in a bar like this?”

her tattooed hand reaching for the glass of whiskey in front of her.

“trying to keep her head above the water while going to university.”

you laughed, throwing a dish towel over your shoulder.

“and what’s a woman like you doing here?”

ellies smirk got wider, she loved the attitude. and you loved the fact that you knew you’d get good tips from that.

“university? what are you studying?”

“psychology”

you smiled, leaning against the counter. you push a strand of hair behind your ear and took a sip from your bottle. ellie hardly met someone who could hold eye contact as well as you can, shes almost the one wanting to look away.

“a pretty psychology student working in a bar like this? this is not up your alley.”

her voice was quiet, but loud enough for you to hear.

“i have to get by somehow. and after all, the pay is good, the tips even better.”

oh ellie could see why you get tipped well. engaging in conversations, having the pretty privilege and being smart too.

“excuse me for a second.”

you said, walking over to serve one of your regulars his usual beer, having a quick chit chat while doing so. ellie didn’t like how the man looked at you. lust drunken eyes while drinking his beer.

of course, you just looked too good, you were so kind too. she watched while you talked to him, analysing your posture. as a psychology student, you for sure knew how to talk and present yourself to the different people on front of you.

when you turned to face her again, you caught her staring. you smiled, thinking to yourself how an woman this attractive was so intrigued by you.

you eyed her. her tattooed hand, from which you wondered how far up her arm the tattoo was going. the suit and the - by now - unorganised shirt underneath. the way too expensive watch and rings. her eyes and freckles and the auburn hair, which was halfway put in a loose bun.

she was oddly beautiful.

“sorry, had to serve a local.”

you smiled, leaning back over the counter to talk to ellie.

“What’s your name, dear?”

the way she asked for your name made your knees weak.

“______. What’s yours?”

“Ellie.”

you kept the conversation going until you had to close the bar. in between you served your locals, you served new clients but you always returned to ellie. there was just something about her. something so special that you didn’t even question why you were talking to her all night long in between running around.

tired as the clock strikes 4 am, you printed her bill, still smiling and talking with the woman so amazing that your psychology brain couldn’t handle it.

“alright, here’s your bill! we’re closing.”

you put it in front of her, smiling slightly before you turned around to put some glasses in the drawer.

when you looked back to where ellie was, she was gone. only leaving a 200$ note on the plate with the bill and her number written with a pen - text me xx written behind it.

part 2 is out now !! find it right here !

#ceo! ellie #ellie the last of us #ellie tlou #tlou ellie #ellie williams #ellie williams tlou #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams x reader #ellie x fem reader #ellie tlou2 #ellie williams x female reader #ellie x reader

[monster-disaster]

[goblin] Rust

goblin!Rust x human!Reader Good to know: public sex, freeuse

Summary: You work in a bar where the rules are slightly different from the outside world.

The bar is calm. The lights from the bare bulbs hanging from the ceiling are dim, casting a warm glow across the place. Quiet music plays in the background. The singer's voice is deep and hoarse. You can barely hear it because of the sound of the bottles as your co-worker fills up the shelves behind you while you are busy swiping down the counter with a wet rag. All around, the air is filled with the quiet murmur of conversations. The clinking of glasses and the occasional burst of laughters echo off the walls. They are decorated with posters and faded photographs. The wide windows are darkened with the name and logo of the bar. The tables and chairs all around the place were crafted decades ago. They are still sturdy and marked with the memory of the countless drinks poured and the many fights that escalated over the years.

"They are here," the vampire behind you hums, glancing over her shoulder to the window. You can see the motorbikes parking down in a long row. The rumbling of the engines shakes the walls and goes straight to your core. "I can hear it," you reply, watching to door burst open with a loud thud.

Soon, the bar is full of bikers, taking their places all over the room as usual. They are loud and dominating. It's nothing you are not used to. You've worked at the bar for a few years. You know most of the patrons since Grimbrook is usually not a place for tourists. Especially not the bar with all kinds of monsters and humans.

Your next hour is busy with taking care of everything. The smell of alcohol and cheap beer is heavy and thick in the air, mixing with smoke. You can't hear the music anymore through the crowd's constant noise. Laughs and shouts boom every now and again from various tables. The boots thud heavily on the wooden floor.

"There is my favorite girl," the goblin greets you from one of the booths next to the walls. His smile is barely noticeable under his crooked nose. His green skin seems a bit more yellowish under the hue of the lights. The black leather jacket he always wears is over the backrest, leaving him in a black t-shirt and jeans. "Hey, Rust," you greet the male. "How's your night?" "It's better now that you are here," he hums, slipping his hand on your hip. His fingers grope your flesh, letting his nails dig into the fabric of your black skirt. "Really?" You laugh, stepping away from his hold as you put the empty bottles and glasses on the tray in your other hand. "I'm busy." "Well, you wouldn't be if Eva would do her job," Rust replies with a hungry smirk on his thin lips. Following his gaze, you see your co-worker on an orc's lap. The male is big and sturdy. His large hands are on your friend's hips, keeping Eva on his lap as she drinks from his neck. They grind to each other the whole time. "Oh, I think she is doing her job just fine," you laugh. Rust's hand is on you again. "And you?" His thumb grazes your nipple through the fabric of your shirt and bra. "I'm doing it, too," you reply. "Just not the fun part." "Don't make me wait for too long," he shouts after you when you leave their table.

You can feel wetness already pooling between your legs, ruining your panties. Heat lits up in your belly, and you have to force yourself to leave the goblin with his friends and continue your job.

"Are you done?" You smirk under your breath when the vampire female appears next to you. Her usually pale complexion seems much healthier. There is a slight hint of pink on her cheeks, and her lips are red and swollen. "With the orc?" She asks. "Yes. For the night? No." You laugh at her reply while serving the monsters around the counter. Your nose is full of the smell of the various drinks. "Oh," Eva continues. "Rust wants to see you." A knowing smile tugs on the corner of her lips. "I-" "Don't worry," she adds before you can say anything. "I will take care of everything while you are busy." "Like last week?" "Oh, shush."

Leaving the vampire at the counter, you make your way to the booth where Rust is still sitting with a half-orc and a demon. They are talking. The half-orc laughs at something. His head tilts back, and the golden loop around his tusk glint in the light. His voice is hoarse but booming.

Without saying anything, Rust pulls up your skirt until it's around your waist, and anybody can see your matching panties covering your mound. His nails graze the sensitive skin of your inner thigh as he tugs you closer to him until you are sitting on his lap. His body and the desk in front of you barely give you enough space, and you have to spread your legs not to kick Rust's friends. Because of the height difference, the goblin has to sit straight if he wants to continue talking with the others. His voice is a deep rumble on your back, and his words fan over the curve of your neck.

"That's what I am talking about," he grunts into your ear, squeezing your hips as you start to grind down on him. The rough fabric of his jeans and his erection underneath it rub against your slit repeatedly. You can feel yourself getting wetter and wetter with every passing second. Your palms are on the table as you try to keep your balance and circle your hips on his lap. You can feel him moving under you. He pushes up, nudging your clit. Your lips part in a silent groan.

The male and his friends continue talking while you chase your own pleasure. Your pussy aches for more, your hole clenches around nothing.

"Stand up," Rust says, stopping your movement. The muscles of your legs flex as you keep your weight above him, slightly bending over the table. You can hear the zipper of Rust's jeans as he frees himself, but your attention is drawn to the demon in front of you. He reaches over the table, unbuttons your shirt, and pushes down your bra until your breasts are bare for his dark eyes. His forked tongue licks across his sharp teeth. Your nipples are tight peaks. The edges of the lacy cups rub against them every time you move.

"C'mere, love," Rust grunts, grabbing your hips again to pull you back onto his lap. His cock slides into you easily. He is not as long as your other patrons, but the piercing at the tip makes you forget everyone else. You can feel the cold metal rubbing against your walls, nudging you in all the right places. "Fuck," the male grunts behind you when you are fully seated on him. You envelop his cock warmly and tightly. He can feel your pussy clamping around his shaft, begging for more. "This is your job, no?" He asks, satisfied. "Keeping my cock warm with your sweet pussy."

And to your utmost disapproval, that's what you do for the next ten minutes. Rust doesn't let you fidget and squirm, craving every bit of friction you can get. He keeps you on him, enjoying your misery while his friends talk and stare at you. Their gazes are heavy and hungry on your tits. You push them out some more with every breath you take as you lean back against Rust's chest. His hands from your side slip down between your legs. His fingers tease across your slit, finding your clit with slow circles. You are soaked. Your arousal drips down onto his lap.

"One more minute, and she will combust," Eva states, smirking as she puts a few new bottles down on the table. Her eyes rake over your bare chest, unashamed. "Do you think so?" Rust jokes but grinds up into your hole. The sudden movement takes your breath away as your head falls back on his shoulder. Eyes flutter shut. "But she is so warm."

He teases you for a few more seconds before making you move on his cock finally. He uses your hole to his heart's content while his friends in front of you stare openly, sipping their beers. Your breasts bounce with every thrust and every circle of your hips as you get higher and higher on the goblin's cock. His clever fingers work on your clit with experience. Rust knows how to drive you crazy with need.

Eva is still at the table, watching. Her dark eyes glint with hunger as she leans closer. Before you know it, your moans get muffled by her lips. Her tongue pushes into your mouth, dominating you while Rust fucks into you. Your pussy is tight and demanding. You want everything he can give you. The burning coil in your stomach grows, and your muscles tense. You almost scream when Eva bites your bottom lip, licking down the blood and sucking for more. The slight pain and the stretch of your aching pussy are enough to push you over the edge. Every nerve in your body bursts with pleasure. Your limbs start to tingle, and your hole clamps down and pulses around the goblin's erection.

"Fuck," Rust groans, pushing you up over the table. Your stomach is flat on the wooden surface. You feel him pulling out of you, and soon, his warm seed paints your waist and ass while you are still shaking after your orgasm. Your muscles jerk, and your pussy clenches.

Blood slips down your chin from the corner of your lips. When you look up and see the demon standing up, too, tugging on his cock a few times before pushing his length into your open lips, you know you will have a long night.

- Masterlist Grimbrook Masterlist Patreon

#monster romance #monster x reader #monster boyfriend #monster x human #grimbrook #goblin x reader #goblin x human #monsterfucker #monster lover #monster kink #terato #kinktober 2023

[glittervame]

That did Nott go to plan

"Is it that, or is it because you're in love with me?"

This post is going to be part of the Hogmarch Fandom challenge by @thatdammchickennugget check it out if you want to know more! I may have gotten a bit carried away...I didn't proofread so sorry for the spelling errors or if it doesn't make any sense, love ya <3

Theodore Nott x FEM! Reader 18+ Basically just smut, Unprotected P in V (Wrap it before you tap it) Subby-Theo, Simi public sex, degradation, overstimulation I think, Handys Theo, fluff at the end

There were five times where Tutoring Theodor Nott did not go to plan.

Session number 1.

Theo's dorm room was a mess of beer bottles, discarded clothing, and the faint scent of marijuana. Y/n didn't belong here, but somehow she found herself on Theo's bed, his head buried between her legs, his tongue lapping at her wetness with a fervor that was both surprising and exhilarating. Her fingers tangled in his unkempt hair as she arched her back, letting out a moan that was quickly swallowed by the chaos of the room. It was a reckless, animalistic act, one that she never would have thought herself capable of doing. But then again, she'd never been this close to Theo before.

His hands gripped her hips, urging her closer, as his tongue danced against her clit, driving her wild. She felt a shudder run through her body, and with a cry that was more primal than anything else, she came, her inner walls clenching tightly around Theo's tongue.

He looked up at her, his green eyes blazing with a mix of lust and satisfaction. "Fuck," he breathed, his voice rough from exertion. "You taste so good." His hands slid up her body, cupping her breasts through her shirt, and he rolled her nipples between his thumbs and forefingers. She arched into the touch, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

Y/n was still trying to catch her breath when Theo sat up, pulling her with him. He leaned in and kissed her, his lips soft and demanding at the same time. She could taste herself on him, and the thought only served to ignite a new wave of desire within her. She wrapped her legs around his waist, grinding her hips against his hardness, wanting him inside her.

He broke the kiss, his breath hot against her ear. "You're so fucking wet," he whispered, his hands fumbling with the buttons of her blouse. She helped him, shaking with anticipation as he pushed the fabric off her shoulders and revealed her bra. His fingers brushed against her bare skin, tracing a line down her sternum and toward her nipple.

When he finally freed her breast from its confines, he took it into his mouth, sucking hard on the sensitive bud. Y/n cried out, arching her back as pleasure coursed through her. She threaded her fingers through his hair, urging him on, needing more. More of this unexpected, intoxicating connection with Theo. She knew it was wrong, that they should be doing this, but she couldn't help herself. The feeling of being wanted, of being desired, was too overwhelming to resist.

As if sensing her need, he slipped a hand down between them, parting her folds with his fingers and searching for her entrance. She was already so wet, so ready for him. And when he finally found her, he thrust his fingers inside her, filling her up in a way that both hurt and felt so, so good. She cried out, her body tensing as a wave of pleasure washed over her.

Theo groaned, his hips bucking against her. "God, you feel so good," he muttered, his voice strained with desire. He withdrew his fingers, only to position his erection at her entrance, pushing slowly but steadily inside her. She bit her lip, feeling the stretch of him filling her up. He was so much bigger than she'd expected, and it hurt a little, but it was a good hurt. A hurt that made her feel wanted, desired.

As he continued to thrust into her, she wrapped her legs tighter around his waist, meeting his movements with her own. Theo's eyes were locked on hers, his expression a mixture of lust and hunger that took her breath away. His skin was flushed, his muscles tense as he powered into her, driving them both closer and closer to the edge.

She arched her back, her nails digging into his shoulders as she felt herself beginning to lose control. Theo's thrusts grew faster, deeper, each one sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. She could feel the tension building inside her, feel the familiar tightening in her stomach as her orgasm drew near.

With a groan that was more animal than human, Theo let go, his body tensing as he came inside her. His thrusts grew erratic, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fought to regain control. Y/n felt the familiar wave of pleasure wash over her, starting deep in her core and radiating outward in a series of shudders and tremors that left her spent and satiated.

Her legs still wrapped around him, she held onto him as they both rode out the aftershocks of their orgasms. When the last tremor finally subsided, Theo collapsed onto her, their sweat-slicked bodies pressed together. His breath came more easily now, his chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm. He shifted slightly, rolling onto his side to look down at her, a sheepish grin tugging at the corners of his mouth.

"Well," he said, his voice still hoarse from exertion, "that was unexpected." He ran a hand through his messy hair, and gave a wicked grin.

-

A few weeks have passed and Theo had found himself less interested in all the other girls at hogwarsts and more into you. He couldn't stop thinking about the way you looked when he touched you, the way you tasted on his tongue. He knew it was wrong but he couldn't help himself. He had to have you again.

One day, as he was walking to class, he caught a glimpse of you across the great hall. Your hair was pulled back into a messy bun, your glasses perched on the bridge of your nose, and a soft blush tinting your cheeks. Something about the way you moved, the way you held yourself, made his heart race. He'd sorta made a hobbie of watching you, not being able to man up and talk to you himself. You were the only thing he could think about, and it was driving him crazy.

He'd tried to talk to you a few times, but every time he got close, his nerves would get the better of him and he'd freeze up. He wanted to be able to tell you how he felt, how much he cared about you, but he just couldn't find the words. It felt like the world was pressing down on him, making it impossible to breathe, let alone string a coherent sentence together.

So instead, he resigned himself to watching you from afar, enjoying the small moments when you'd glance in his direction or smile at something one of your friends said. It wasn't much, but it was enough to keep him going. And when you walked past him in the hallway, so close that he could feel the warmth radiating off of you, he knew he had to do something. He had to make a move.

He'd been thinking about it for days, trying to come up with the perfect plan, and finally, he decided on something bold. He'd invited you to the Yule Ball, hoping that maybe this would be the opportunity he needed to finally tell you how he felt. As the evening wore on and the music played, he found himself growing more and more nervous. His heart felt like it was beating out of his chest, and his palms were sweaty as he waited for the perfect moment to approach you.

When he finally worked up the courage, he made his way over to where you were standing near the edge of the dance floor, sipping punch from a plastic cup. Your dress was stunning, a deep red that brought out the warmth in your skin, and your hair was pulled up in a elegant updo that showed off your neck. He couldn't help but think how beautiful you looked, and for a moment, all his nerves melted away.

Taking a deep breath, he walked up beside you and offered you a smile. "Hey, Theo," you said, looking up at him with those big, green eyes. He could feel his heart skip a beat. "I thought you might like to dance," he managed to say, his voice coming out a little rougher than he'd intended. You smiled back at him, and before he could second-guess himself, you took his hand and let him lead you out onto the dance floor.

As they moved together to the music, he felt a sense of peace wash over him. He was finally doing it, finally telling you how he felt. And even though he knew it was wrong, that it could cause a lot of trouble for both of them, he couldn't help but feel like it was worth it. Because being with you, even for just this one dance, felt more right than anything else in the world.

You looked up at him, your eyes searching his face, and he could tell that you felt it too. The connection between them was palpable, electric. He couldn't help but wonder what it would be like to be with you, truly be with you, outside of this moment. He wished he could freeze time, just so they could stay like this forever.

The music came to an end, and they stood there on the dance floor, still holding each other close. He couldn't bring himself to let go, didn't want to lose the feeling of your body pressed against his. You looked up at him, your lips parted, as if you were about to say something, but in the end, you didn't need to. He could see it in your eyes, hear it in your silence, that you felt it too.

Finally, reluctantly, he released you, stepping back and taking a deep breath. You both smiled shyly at each other before turning away, pretending to look for your friends or sip your punch. But neither of you moved, and neither of you looked away for long. The air between you was still charged, still thick with the unspoken words and the feelings that neither of you quite knew how to express.

As the night wore on, they found themselves stealing glances at each other whenever they could, trying to gauge the other's reaction, to see if what they thought they saw was real. And with each passing moment, the desire to be together, to explore this strange and wonderful connection, grew stronger. It was like a current, pulling them together despite all the forces that tried to keep them apart.

Finally, as the last notes of the final dance echoed through the great hall, you turned to him, your eyes meeting his once more. There was a question in your gaze, a hope that he couldn't ignore. And without another word, he took your hand, knowing that whatever happened next, he couldn't bring himself to care. Because being with you, even for just this one night, had already changed everything.

And then the clock fucking strikes midnight.

-

Session number 2.

Y/n has once again found her self in an empty classroom with a pussy drunk Theo between her legs eating her out like there's no tomorrow. She can't help but moan and grip his head in pleasure as he expertly works his tongue on her clit, driving her wild. His hands are all over her thighs and ass, urging her to open wider, to give him more access to her sweetness. The sound of his slurred pleas and her moans echo through the room, filling the air with desire and need.

As he continues to feast on her, she feels a surge of wetness between her legs, a sure sign that she's close. She tightens her grip on his head, urging him on, needing him to make her cum. And then, with a sharp cry, she feels the wave of pleasure wash over her, her body tensing and shuddering in ecstasy.

For a moment, they are both still, lost in the afterglow of her orgasm. Theo looks up at her, his eyes glazed over with lust, and she can see the desire burning in his eyes. He slowly pulls away from her, taking his wet mouth off of her as he stands up. Y/n watches him, panting heavily, as he unzips his pants, revealing his hard, throbbing erection.

With a steady hand, he guides himself to her entrance, positioning his cock at her entrance. She watches as he pushes forward, feeling the head of his dick slowly sink into her. It's been so long since she's felt this full, this connected, this wanted. She wraps her legs around his waist, arching her back as he thrusts deeper inside of her.

Theo's movements are slow and deliberate at first, savoring the feel of her body surrounding him. But as he grows bolder, as the heat between them intensifies, he begins to move faster, harder. His thrusts are deep and powerful, driving into her with a force that she can feel all the way up to her core.

She gasps as he hits her sweet spot, he grins and slowly teases around it. His hand slides down her lower back, over her ass, and back up to her hip. His thrusts become erratic, his breathing growing harsher as he feels the end drawing near. Y/n meets his movements, her nails digging into his shoulders as she arches her back, her body begging for release.

Theo looks down at her, his eyes burning with desire. He's never felt this way before, this need to be inside her, to feel her around him. He's lost count of the times he's come since they've been together, it's becoming a real problem.

She looks up at him, her chest heaving, her lips parted in a breathless moan. He watches as her eyes close, her head falls back against the wall, and she arches her back further. He can feel her tightening around him, the telltale sign that she's close too. With a groan, he thrusts deeper, harder, determined to send them both over the edge together.

His movements become frantic, his body tense with need as he feels his own release barreling down on him. He's never been this close before, this connected to someone. He can feel every inch of her body moving in perfect synchrony with his own, her breath hot against his skin.

With a final, powerful thrust, he cries out her name as he comes, his seed spilling deep inside her. Y/n's body tenses and convulses around him, her nails digging into his shoulders as she's engulfed by a wave of pleasure so intense it leaves her breathless.

For a moment, they are both still, their bodies pressed tightly together, the only sound in the room their ragged breathing. He pulls out slowly, his softening cock slipping from her wet folds, and collapses beside her on the floor, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath.

-

This time it's one of the rare sessions where Y/n actually gets to tutor Theo in Herbology and not end up bent over his desk with his cum leaking out of her. Or so she thought.

They spend the afternoon in the greenhouse, surrounded by the lush, verdant life that Theo so desperately craves. He listens intently as she explains the care and cultivation of the various plants, asking questions and making notes in his notebook. Throught the lesson thogh he couldn't seem to keep his hands off of her, weather it was playing with the hem of her sleeve to fiddiling with a peace of her hair.

The air is thick with the scent of soil and flowers, and the sunlight streaming through the glass panes casts a warm, golden glow over their work. The lesson was drawing to a close, they take a break to stretch their legs and enjoy the fresh air. They wander along the path that leads to the small pond at the edge of the garden, their hands brushing against each other as they walk. Theo leans in closer, inhaling deeply of her scent, and presses his lips to hers in a kiss.

Session number 3.

Her heart racing, Y/n melts into his embrace, returning his kiss with equal fervor. Their hands roam over each other's bodies, seeking out the familiar curves and planes. He pushes her up against the rough bark of a tree, trapping her there as he continues to kiss her, his tongue dancing with hers.

She feels the hard length of his cock pressing against her through their clothes, and she moans into his mouth, wanting him inside her now. He pulls back for a moment, his breath ragged as he looks down at her, and then reaches down to undo his pants. Y/n helps him, eagerly pulling his cock free and wrapping her hand around the base.

Theo groans, closing his eyes as she strokes him, the sensation so much better than anything he could have imagined. He presses their bodies together, grinding his hips against her hand, wanting to feel the heat and wetness of her around him.

She feels his growing arousal, the tip of his cock leaking pre-cum onto her palm. She kneels down, pulling his pants and boxers down to his thighs, revealing his erection in all its glory. Theo looks down at her, his eyes dark with desire as she takes him in her mouth, her warm, wet lips enveloping him.

She sucks gently at first, exploring the texture and taste of him, feeling the pulse of his veins beneath her tongue. He lets out a shuddering breath, his hands tangling in her hair, urging her on. She deepens the suction, taking more of him into her mouth, feeling his length stretch her jaw. His hips begin to move, thrusting against her face as he loses control, his moans muffled by the sounds of their surroundings.

Her own need building, she stands up, straddling him and guiding his cock to her wet folds. He helps her, pushing upwards, burying himself inside her. They both groan at the feeling of being connected once more. Theo's hands roam over her body, cupping her breasts, tweaking her nipples as they begin to move together in rhythm.

Their movements become increasingly frantic, their bodies slamming together as they seek release. Theo's breath comes in ragged gasps, his eyes squeezed shut as he feels the familiar tension building inside him. He can feel himself getting closer, closer to the edge, and with one final thrust, he comes, his seed spilling deep inside her.

Y/n feels the wave of pleasure wash over her, her body shuddering as she cries out his name. Their bodies become limp, their breathing slow and ragged, as they cling to each other, lost in the afterglow of their passion.

-

Session number 4.

This time though this is the one, there is no way they can get side tracked on this one. Their in a library just studying potions.

Theo and Y/n sit across from each other at a large wooden table, surrounded by rows upon rows of leather-bound books. The scent of old paper and ink fills the air, and the flickering light from the candles casts a warm, inviting glow over their faces. They are intent on their studies, pouring over the pages of the books, taking notes and discussing the intricacies of potions. Theo can't help but steal glances at Y/n as she works, admiring the way her hair falls over her shoulders and the way her lips move as she reads.

Their shared interest in potions makes it easy for them to engage in conversation, and soon they are lost in a lively debate about the merits of various ingredients and brewing techniques. Theo leans in closer, listening intently to her every word, and finds himself agreeing with her more often than not.

But the bastard just can't keep his hands to himself and you found out soon enough when his hand is up your skirt and down your panties.

Theo's hand is warm and rough as it glides up your thigh, his thumb teasing the edge of your panties. You gasp, surprised by the audacity of his move. He leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispers, "You feel so good, Y/n."

You're caught between embarrassment and desire. You know you shouldn't be doing this, in a library no less, but you can't help but want more. You feel a stirring between your legs, a longing for him that you haven't felt in a long time. Maybe it's the forbidden nature of it all, the danger of getting caught. Or maybe it's just Theo.

He pushes your chair back, making you straddle his lap. His other hand cups your breast through your shirt, his thumb rubbing circles around your nipple, the other one playing with your cilt. You arch your back, moaning softly as pleasure spreads through you. His other hand slides down, pushing your panties aside, and finding you wet and ready.

Theo groans, pressing his hips forward, feeling you stretch and accommodate him. His other hand moves up, cupping your face, his thumb tracing your lower lip. "God, Y/n," he whispers, "you're so fucking beautiful." His hips begin to move, in and out, in a rhythm that matches the pounding of your heart. He leans in, capturing your lips with his, his tongue pushing past your teeth and tangling with yours.

As they kiss, you can feel him deep inside you, his movements growing more urgent. Your nails dig into his shoulders, and you gasp against his mouth, your release building. Theo picks up the pace, thrusting harder, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he feels his own climax approaching. He pulls back, just enough to look into your eyes, his expression a mix of lust and a hint of something else. "I'm going to come for you," he rasps, and then he does, his hips bucking wildly as he empties himself inside you.

-

Session number 5.

Y/n had promised herself that this session would go according to plan, that they would study the full hour. That's what she was thinking untill she found herself doing the exact opposite.

Y/n, looking incredibly sexy in a lacy black bra and matching panties, straddles Theo, who is lying on his back. His cock, already hard as a rock, is trapped in his boxer briefs, straining against the fabric. Y/n's wetness is already dripping down Theo's abdomen, and he can feel how aroused she is. He groans, arching his back in anticipation.

Y/n grins wickedly, leaning down to capture Theo's lips in a kiss. Her hands slide up his chest, over his shoulders, and down his arms before gripping his wrists, pinning them above his head. Theo gasps into her mouth as she continues to kiss him, their tongues tangling together. His cock throbs in his underwear, begging for release.

Finally, she pulls away, breathing heavily, and looks down at Theo. "You're so fucking hot," she whispers, tracing a finger along his jaw. Her touch sends shivers down his spine. She reaches between them, unfastens his boxer briefs, and pulls them down his legs, releasing his hard cock into the open air. Theo's eyes roll back in his head as he feels her warm, wet lips wrap around the head of his cock. He groans, thrusting his hips upward.

"Fuck, Theo," she moans, taking more of him into her mouth. Her hand grips his base, stroking him expertly as she sucks. Theo's hips buck wildly, his moans muffled by the mattress. He's so close, he can feel it. He's never felt this desperate for release before.

Y/n pulls away, panting, and looks down at him. "You're doing so well, baby," she whispers, her voice low and sultry. She leans forward, taking his cock in her hand and stroking him slowly, carefully, until he's almost at the brink. "Just a little longer," she teases, before sucking him deep into her mouth again. Her tongue swirls around the head, driving him wild.

Theo's vision blurs, his mind goes blank. He's lost all sense of time and place. He can feel himself getting closer, but just when he thinks he can't take anymore, she pulls away again. "You're so beautiful when you're like this," she breathes, trailing a finger down his chest. "So needy and so desperate." She lowers herself onto him, guiding his cock into her wetness. Theo gasps, arching his back as she begins to ride him, slowly at first, but picking up speed as they both lose control.

Theo's hands find their way to her hips, gripping tightly as he thrusts upwards, meeting her movements. Her breasts bounce against his chest, her nipples hard and aching. He can feel the tension building inside him, the need for release growing more and more intense with each passing second.

"Oh fuck, Theo," she moans, throwing her head back. Her nails dig into his shoulders as she comes, her inner walls clenching around him in an unbearably tight grip. He can feel her orgasm pulsing through her, fueling his own need for release. Before he can cum tho, she pulls way making him whine at the loss of contact.

"You're so turned on that you're reduced to whimpering and begging and pleading for me to fuck you senseless. Tell me how much you want it, baby." She teases, slowly grinding her hips against his cock. Theo's breath comes out in ragged gasps as he arches into her touch.

"I want it," he moans, gripping her hips tightly. "I need it." He groans as she begins to ride him harder, faster. His cock throbs inside her, desperate for release.

Theo's vision blurs, his mind goes blank. He's lost all sense of time and place. He can feel himself getting closer, but just when he thinks he can't take anymore, she pulls away again. "You're so fucking sexy when you're like this," she whispers, tracing a finger along his jaw. Her touch sends shivers down his spine.

She leans forward, capturing his lips in a fierce, hungry kiss. Her hips begin to move again, faster and harder, driving him wild. He can feel his control slipping away as he thrusts up into her, desperate to feel the release coursing through him.

With a hoarse cry, Theo finally gives in to the overwhelming pleasure, his body tensing as he comes, his cock pulsing inside her, filling her up with his seed. Y/n moans, arching her back as she feels him empty himself into her.

"You look so pretty when you're like this, too dumb to even think" she muses, her hands running down his chest.

She leans back, watching him, her eyes dark with satisfaction. As he catches his breath, she slowly eases herself off of him, taking him out of her wetness with a soft pop. His cock twitches, wanting more, but she ignores it, instead straddling him again, this time with her legs on either side of his hips. She leans forward, taking one of his hands in hers and guiding it between their bodies. "Touch yourself," she whispers, her breath tickling his ear. "I want to see how much you want this."

Theo's fingers are hesitant at first, but as she watches him, a heat begins to build inside him. He can feel his cock twitch and throb as he starts to stroke himself, watching as Y/n watches him. She moans softly, her hips moving in time with his touch, her breasts swaying before him.

"That's it," she murmurs, her voice low and sultry. "You're so sexy when you touch yourself like that. I bet you'd do anything for me, wouldn't you?" Her fingers trail down his chest, teasing the tip of his nipple, sending shivers through him.

Theo nods, his eyes locked on hers, his hand moving faster now. Y/n leans in closer, their bodies pressed together, her breath hot against his skin. She can feel his desire, his need for her, and it only fuels her own desire to have him. She lets out a soft moan as she watches him stroke himself until he cums again, the sight sending a wave of pleasure through her.

She reaches down, guiding his hand away from his aching cock, and replaces it with her own. Her fingers are gentle as she strokes him, her thumb brushing over the head of his cock. Theo's hips buck up into her touch, his breath coming out in ragged gasps. "You're mine," she whispers, her voice low and possessive. "And I'm yours. There's no one else for either of us."

Their bodies move together in perfect harmony, their skin slick with sweat. Y/n's fingers move faster, her touch more urgent now. She can feel the tension building inside Theo, can feel the way he's trembling with need. She leans in, capturing his lips in a hungry kiss, her tongue dancing with his.

As they kiss, she tightens her grip on him, her thumb circling the head of his cock. "I love how much you want me," she murmurs against his lips. "I love how I can make you feel like this."

With a groan, Theo comes, his body tensing as he releases himself deep inside her. She feels his hot seed spilling onto her hand, and she can't help but moan at the feel of it. She continues to stroke him even as he empties himself, her touch gentle and soothing.

As they catch their breath, Y/n leans back, gazing down at him. His eyes are closed, his chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. She trails her fingers down his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw before wrapping her hand around his neck. "You are so beautiful when you're like this," she whispers, her thumb brushing over his lips. "I could look at you for hours."

Theo cracks an eye open, looking up at her. "Is it that, or is it because you're in love with me?" he grins, the playful challenge evident in his eyes. Y/n leans down, her lips brushing against his. "Maybe it's a little bit of both," she whispers, her breath warm against his skin. "But I think…" She trails off, hesitating for a moment before continuing. "I think you love me because I make you feel things you've never felt before. I make you want things you never thought you wanted. I make you feel alive."

Her words send a shiver down his spine. He watches as she leans back, her eyes never leaving his. There's something so intense about her gaze, so possessive. It makes him feel like she's seen right through him, to the depths of his soul. He reaches up, cupping her face in his hands, wanting to feel her skin against his, wanting to lose himself in her eyes.

"Maybe," he breathes, his voice barely a whisper. "maybe it's a bit of both…" He trails off, Before pulling her in for a kiss.

Session number five might have been her favorite...

#fypシ #writing prompt #y/n #send help #help #theo nott x reader #theodore nott x reader #got carried away #theodore nott smut #theodore nott fluff #theo #hogmarch challenge #thatdamedchickennugget #Hogmarch challenge #Hogmarch

[bramblepatch]

BG3 Companions ranked from least to most willing to Eat A Vegetable:

Astarion gets a pass because he doesn't eat solid food. This pass is revoked because if he wasn't a vampire trying to make him eat a balanced diet would be a nigh-insurmountable task.

Gale is a spectacularly picky eater, which is rich coming from a man who ate a pair of boots this afternoon.

Jaheira will judge you for not eating enough vegetables while she, herself, is eating a meal made up entirely of beer, dried sausage, and stale bread.

Minthara is unconvinced by surface vegetables, and also is complaining that you cooked the mushrooms wrong.

You cannot make Minsc eat his veggies! Boo, however, can.

Lae'zel eats pretty much whatever you put in front of her. Calories are calories.

Shadowheart has more distinct opinions about food than Lae'zel, but in a crisis has a similar you eat what you're given to keep up your strength ethos.

Wyll was brought up to eat a balanced diet and clear his plate, and he's the kind of wholesome to praise whatever you serve him with apparently genuine enthusiasm.

Ok. Look. You might think Karlach would be higher up on the list. What you need to consider is that it has been ten years since she's eaten cabbage. Prime Material Plane food is the best.

If you do not give Halsin a green salad with his dinner he will give you the biggest, saddest, most disappointed teddy bear eyes.

#bg3 #bg3 shitpost

[allbark-no-bite]

cowboy up.

jake seresin x reader (wc: 2.6k)

summary: Jake’s a tease. and a cowboy. it makes your friends sick

warnings: really none i think, just talk of and allusions to sex

authors note: very loosely based off of “Dirty Looks” by Lainey Wilson. it got me into the mood to write a little something. briefly mentioned that reader is Ice’s daughter

————————————————————————

"Well hello, mi cowboy."

It's the deliciously sensual roll of the endearment off of your tongue that has Jake hooking two fingers through the loop of your jeans and tugging you firmly into his side as he approaches the bar. It starts up an engine-like rumble in his chest that travels up his throat and catches, vibrating while he bows down to kiss you. Just the sight of your sweet smile has the weariness of the day melting off of him.

El cowboy, you mother had appraised with great enthuse the first time you had brought Jake home, and he greeted her with his smooth as honey southern drawl. Being Latino and having grown up just along the border in El Paso, her English was still licked with Spanish flare and it made everything she said sound rivetingly amorous. Even after three years of dating, she still widely referred to him as the cowboy—your cowboy.

"Hey, darlin'. Sorry I wasn't here sooner. There were some mechanical issues with my plane and I couldn't get away," he apologizes, hence the grease stains on his hands. He had probably only taken the time to change into a fresh set of clothes before leaving base and driving straight to the Hard Deck.

You only hum, tipping your head up to steal a second kiss before he straightens. "Glad you're here now."

Jake has to stop himself from chasing your lips for a third. Penny's warned him about getting too frisky at the bar. It's not his fault when you taste like strawberry margaritas and are wearing those jeans that you know drive him crazy.

But when he looks over his shoulder, Penny's sliding him an ice cold beer from across the bar. "This one's on the house, Seresin." The gleam shining in her eyes tells him that she's caught the two of you but is going to let it slide this time.

When he opens his mouth to argue, already digging his wallet out of his pocket, she shakes her head. "Looks like you had a long day. Enjoy the beer."

"Really, Pen, I—"

Penny's back is already turned as she heads to the other side of the bar to serving an incoming crowd of aviators.

Jake glances down to his well worn boots while his hand goes to his jaw to feel at the beginnings of a five o'clock shadow. Does he really look that worn out? He has to resist the urge to smell himself.

He looks back to you, suddenly feeling ashamed of himself for showing up like this. Here he is, covered in sweat and engine grease, while his own girlfriend is standing next to him, looking way out of his league. Even the Dagger Squad looks fresh and put together. It would have been hard to guess that they had all been out sweating on the tarmac together earlier in the day.

"I probably should have cleaned up," he admits, running a hand over the cropped hair at the back of his neck. He's wondering if he can at least escape to the bathroom for a minute to stick his head under the sink.

What Jake doesn't know is that you might actually kill him if he does that. There's something about the combination of his off-duty khakis and dusty boots that is making your heart flutter. The tousle of his blonde hair after a long day and ruddy flush of his already tan cheeks give off the impression that he's more than just a pretty face. He looks hard working and very, very capable.

"Jake?"

"Hmm?" he hums, having been eyeing the bathrooms, contemplating even just splashing some water on his face.

Your heart squeezes painfully when his dazzling green eyes turn back to land on yours, eyebrows raised in question, fully attuned to whatever it is that you may need. "What baby—"

He stops mid sentence when you pull him down by the back of his neck to kiss him. This time it's a much less chaste kiss than the one you greeted him with, and he gets to really taste the strawberry margarita on your lips—a bit sweet, a little salty. The taste makes his mouth tingle and he's not sure if it's you or the tequila that's making him feel buzzed.

Jake's hand immediately slips around your waist, his large hand on your back, pressing you into him. A groan slips out of him when his fingers brush the warm skin just above the rise of your jeans.

The fact that you had purposefully chosen not to wear your khakis like himself and the rest of the crew makes Jake that much more hot and bothered. It's not that he dislikes your usual naval attire, because he doesn't. He loves how it fits you, who you become when you wear it, your signature "Frostbite" embroidered on the front—the name he gave you. It's the fact he's come in, dead on his feet from working all day, and his diamond of a girlfriend is wearing an outfit she put on just for him.

Really, Jake thinks his chest might just implode.

His free hand had been holding his beer out to the side, momentarily forgotten once you'd started kissing him. Blindly, he sets it down behind him, the glass clinking against the bar top so that he can get both of his hands on you without spilling. He prefers you, the taste of your skin anyhow.

"So damn sweet," he groans into the underside of your jaw, eyes shut as he fights the urge to say fuck it and take you home now. "Could just eat you."

You laugh, fingers gripping his blonde hair. "Is that a promise, cowboy?" Jake's teeth scrape your pulse point and your fingers tighten. His body is hot pressed flushed against you, moving as you move so that the contact never breaks.

"Baby, I'd devour you," he promises huskily into your ear. Mav has been working them to the bone for the past few weeks, and Jake has hardly had the energy to climb the front steps when he gets home, much less make it to the bedroom. To say you've both been left wanting is an understatement.

His lips press wetly to your neck. "You look good, Frosty Girl. You know how much I love those jeans..."

You hum, eyes fluttering closed as Jake sends you to that place. That place where only you and Jake exist, where the worries of the day melt away, and it smells like his cinnamon oak body wash and the hint of beer on his breath. It doesn't matter than he smells slightly of sweat and jet fuel because that's just him. That's what makes him Jake.

"Mmm, you do?" Of course he does. Jake Seresin drinks the air you breathe and worships the ground you walk on. "I think you'll like what I have on under them more."

If Jake had been twenty-one again, he'd have a raging hard on in his jeans right now. After two years of dating you, he's developed a bit of self control since then. He spent a lot of lunch breaks jacking off in the bathroom the first few months. All you had to do was rub up against him climbing out the back seat of the cockpit and he was sneaking off to take care of himself before any of the Dagger squad could see the missile sized hard on in his pants.

Jake smiles, his pearly white grin pressed into your neck. His jade green eyes peer up at you with a gleam of anticipation.

"Black?" he guesses, his nimble fingertips already dipping just past your waistband to brush across the lace he knows he's going to find.

"Uhh mm," you deny, enjoying the thrill of teasing him with your secret.

His warm breath fans across your neck. "Red?"

The corners of your mouth quirk up into a look that Jake can only describe as devilish. "I figured you deserved a treat. I know you've been—" Before you can finish, Jake is kissing you. His pink lips are cool and a bit wet from the beer he's been nursing, but his tongue is hot and slick and wet and it just feels so good.

"Jesus. Get a room, you two."

Despite the roar of blood in his ears, the buzzing in his veins, Jake recognizes the sound of Bradley's voice just a table away.

Begrudgingly pulling away from the kiss, Jake doesn't release you just yet, just moves his head to look over your shoulder. He had hardly even acknowledged the Dagger Squad when he walked in, too focused on you. And maybe that's on him.

"Sorry, Bradshaw. Didn't see you there." You can tell Jake's smirking over your shoulder, hand not so slyly cupping the curve of your ass as he reaches for his beer with the other, playing at indifference. He takes a slow swig of it, unbothered by the fact that your friends -you coworkers- are all watching. "I was busy saying hello to my unbelievably sexy girlfriend."

Without breaking eye contact with Bradley, Jake plants a filthy wet kiss to the pulse point of your neck. It's enough to make the other aviator's mustache twitch and his throat constrict with a impulsive swallow. Regardless of how they acted— always at each other’s throats— there was no longer any bad blood between the two pilots. That feud had been settled on the Uranium mission last year and was replaced by new found respect, but that didn’t mean that they didn’t seize every opportunity to ruffle the other’s feathers.

"This is a public space," Natasha reminds him, as if he were unaware of the extremely crowded bar.

Jake smirks. "Oh believe me, I'm holding back for Floyd's sake. Wouldn't want to ruin his innocence."

The weapon system officer emits a noise of protest from across the table, his cheeks flashing an embarrassed hue of red. "I've already told you, I'm not a virgin!"

You giggle into Jake's shoulder at his complait, content to bask in the temporary stronghold of your boyfriend's embrace. It's nice to get moments with him like this, away from the stress of work and without the pressure of success weighing on your shoulders.

Of course your friends knew about yours and Jake's relationship, had known since the very first date, but in nearly three years of dating, they had come to the realization that they knew very little about your relationship. Work was strictly professional for the two of you and even at the bar, the most intimate thing they'd ever seen occur was Jake greeting you with a quick kiss.

"Damn, Bagman, you walking in here, kiss Frost senseless, and now she's giggling? You're telling me that's all it takes to bring her from she-devil to—giggling?" Coyote asks from behind his pool cue, sauntering over to join the group.

Jake, his green eyes gleaming, slips his warm palm under your shirt to smooth over the exposed curve of your hip. "I can make her do a lot more than giggle, Machado."

You groan, burying your embarrassingly flushed face further into Jake's neck. Although your boyfriend may be able to play the nonchalance card, you can only take so much of their teasing.

You push away from Jake before he can start full on groping you in front of your friends. If there's one thing about Jake, he has no shame when it comes to showing you off.

"I don't giggle, Javy," you stress, choosing to ignore Jake's comment.

Fanboy, who is never far behind the other pilot, saunters over and slings an arm around his friend's shoulders. "Giggle? I've never even seen you crack a smile."

Before you can respond, Jake is sliding an impossibly large palm around to cup the back of your neck, fingers digging in to the tense muscle that he knows is there. Relax, is what that means. "Careful, she does bite." He's grinning, a smug, but knowing smirk on his face. 

"Fuck, man. I knew you were into that kinky shit," Coyote quips, and it evokes a few laughs from the Dagger squad, save for Natasha, who pretends to roll her eyes. 

Jake grins. "Damn straight."

"Easy, cowboy," you warn, your eyes narrowing at him in playful warning.

You're not necessarily embarrassed by Jake's insinuation of your sex life, the two of you were well established in your relationship and you trusted your friends too much to be embarrassed by that kind of thing. It's just that being Admiral Kazanky's daughter meant that too many people assumed you had only made it this far because of your old man or that you were sleeping through the ranks, which was far from the truth. 

You deserved to be here. And Jake knows this, which is why his thumb is still massaging at the pressure point at the base of your skull, just behind your ear. Everything about him, from the reassuring smile he directs at you to his relaxed body language is him letting you know that it's all in good fun, and no one here thinks that you don’t belong here in the slightest. 

Bradley's shaking his head as he lounges against the pool table. "I don't know what I'm going to have to tell my therapist about first, the fact that Frost calls you 'cowboy' or the fact you probably get off on that shit.”

Jake grins, toothpick bobbing in his mouth as his impish smile widens. “Wouldn’t you like to know, Bradshaw?”

The truth is, he does. Behind the cool and collected facade that he’s putting up, bantering back and forth with your friends while he sips his beer, he’s just the right amount of hot and bothered that he wouldn’t mind calling it a night just to go home and have his way with you. He hasn’t forgotten about the little red number you’re wearing.

Having lost the attention of the rest of the squad to the pool table during his and Rooster’s banter, Jake shifts his focus to you. Large hand coming to rest on your back, he dips down to murmur in your ear. “Think I’m about ready to turn in, kid. What do you say we get out of here?”

Your pretty face turns towards him, and you don’t miss the gleam in his green eyes. Smiling privately to yourself, you eyes reflect his knowingly. “Rooster will never let you live it down. You only just got here.” However, that doesn’t mean you can’t be coerced.

Jake hums, his lips pressing to your temple in a kiss that’s meant to hide the fact that he’s whispering— plotting— in your ear. “I’ll buy ‘em around on the way out. They won’t even notice we’re gone,” he reasons.

You smile, turning back to the game of pool as Jake leans over you before you give him. “Go on,” you finally encourage. “I’ll follow you out.”

Grinning and all too pleased with himself, Jake slips off behind you, but not before giving an affectionate pat to your ass. You have to refrain from rolling your eyes at him.

You wait a while before discreetly making your escape form the pool table, grabbing your things as you go. Jake’s waiting for you at the door, all too pleased to see you, as though he hadn’t just five minutes before. “Made it?”

“Yeah, I don’t think they—”

“Well damn, goodbye to you guys too!” Rooster calls from across the bar. Obviously having noticed your departure, the Dagger Squad is all standing around the pool table, shaking their heads in varying levels of amused disapproval.

Payback crosses his arms. “You guys make me sick.”

Opening the door for you, Jake turns and tips his imaginary cowboy hat at them with an grin. “Sorry man. If you all will excuse me, I’ve got some riding to do.”

#top gun maverick #top gun fic #topgun maverick #jake seresin x y/n #jake hangman fic #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake seresin #top gun maverick hangman #jake hangman seresin #hangman top gun #hangman x reader

[fanaticsnail]

Bachata (Dance Series)

Masterlist here.

Word Count: 3,105

Warnings: Fluff. Pure fluff, dancing, sensual dance descriptors, mention of alcohol (if you squint).

It was beta-read by the ever wonderful @sordidmusings (thank you bby grl, you are a blessing)

Song Suggestion: Stand By Me, Wake Me Up, la Isla Bonita

Your lips remained parted, eyes glossy and hyper-fixated on the movement of swaying hips, bent knees, and the biceps and forearms of your captain who effortlessly led one of the locals in a sultry dance. All his movements were in time to the beat of the drum, the fingerpicking of nylon guitar strings and the push and pull of airy piano accordion accompanying the lilt of vocals.

The atmosphere surrounding the beach-front festival on the coastal shore was loud, the crash of waves in the distance resonated within the chasms of the wooden dock where the Going Merry was harbored. Several vendors had set up temporary huts with canvas roofs atop wooden poles, selling their wares, local cuisine and fountains of exotic drinks of flavors you had never heard of before.

Although the musicians sang out their romantic souls into the air, prompting many a traveler to engage with them in dance and singing along to the tune: your eyes remained fixed on the way Luffy effortlessly spun the local girl within his arms, steadying her hips with his hands. His nose was scrunched with laughter, his grin drawn wide against his cheeks to bare his teeth in unbridled joy.

“Quartermaster?” the green-haired swordsman addressed you, “your thoughts?”

“Hmm?” you hummed in question, snapped from your entranced gaze held against your captain’s swaying body.

“You’ve been staring at him long enough,” Nami giggled at you, leaning back to recline against the wooden log behind her, “surely you have a bit of a hypothesis.”

You furrowed your brow, looking between the remaining companions you’d found yourself serving with on the Going Merry. Nami had a playful shimmer falling in her eyes, Zoro quenched his thirst by draining the remainder of his brown-stained beer bottle, while Sanji was making his way back from collecting the evening meal for the crew by bartering with the vendors.

Usopp and Luffy opted to join in the festival celebrations by swaying with the locals to the beat of the drum. Both men began surprising the crew with how effortlessly they danced to the tunes produced by the band, but Luffy was exceptionally surprising everyone by the way he almost had an air of sultry seduction in his movements. As soon as you witnessed the first effortless and tasteful gyration of his hips, your breath caught in your throat and a warm flush weaseled its way from your chest to tint your cheeks with its presence.

“On the dancing?” you asked again, Zoro chuckling at your thoughts.

“Alright, let’s backtrack then,” the swordsman rolled his eyes with a chuckled scoff, “look at him.”

“Oh she’s been looking at him enough, Zoro,” Nami scrunched up her nose, her tone light and teasing. You scrunched up your own nose in light mockery at her jest, prompting her to release a laugh into the night air.

“Looking at who?” the blonde chef asked as he placed the food down on the stretched canvas mat on the sandy floor in front of you all.

“Alright Sanji, non-biased opinion,” Nami said, leaning forward to sit herself closer to the food in front of her, “our captain. Where do you think he learnt how to dance like that? Look – no, really Sanji – look.”

The chef rolled his eyes and lulled his head over to look at the captain of the Going Merry. Luffy spun his dance partner to face her torso away from him, her back pressed flush against his bare chest as he ghosted his fingertips over her vertical forearms held upwards. His lips traced the back of her neck, his eyes fluttered closed as he swayed his hips against the beat, with his brows furrowed in passionate concentration.

“O-oh,” Sanji stuttered, his eyes widening with a downturned smile rising within his fluster.

“I know, right?” Nami loudly whispered in her hushed enthusiasm.

“I can honestly say: I have no idea,” the blonde nodded his head in confirming his words more-so to himself than to the group, “he doesn’t give off that kind of energy at all.”

The music concluded, the captain breaking away from his dance partner, and giving her a clap on the shoulder as a gesture of encouragement and joy at the time they spent together.

“Oi, Luffy, Usopp!” Zoro called to the two crewmen, “grub’s up, come and get it!”

Your captain’s face snapped over towards the crew; his eyes first meeting with yours. A large grin drew itself against his cheeks once more as he found Usopp and they stampeded together towards the canvas mat.

“You guys, the sand- the sand,” Nami aggressively shooed the two rapidly approaching men, their feet kicking up the coarse grains of sand dangerously close to the food placed on the floor. You giggled at them, looking to your captain and patting the unoccupied space beside you in a gesture for him to sit down.

Usopp claimed the vacant space next to Nami, taking a portion of the local cuisine for himself as he did so. Luffy, smiling at your gesture, immediately plopped himself down ungracefully. He playfully nudged your shoulder with the top of his head, giving you a small smile, his curls feeling soft against your exposed skin as his hat remained fastened to his back via the drawstring. You laughed, reaching your palm and fingertips to brush some of the strands away from his forehead to reveal his hazelnut-coloured eyes to you. You shook your head, scrunching your nose and playfully nudged him away from you.

Your role aboard the Going Merry was the Quartermaster: an aid in the navigation and smooth sailing amongst the waves, while being the secondary loyal soldier behind the first-mate. Luffy, upon finding you in a tavern off the shore of Shells-Town, immediately was taken with your skills and ease in breaking up a tavern brawl. Two rival pirate crews had stumbled into the family-run tavern and began immediately meddling in the affairs of one another’s business. The boiling point flashing like water to scorching oil within the halls of your favorite tavern: foreheads touching, guns withdrawn, fists flying and the breaking of brown, glass bottles. You threw yourself into the crowd, opting to disarm and do no harm, dancing effortlessly within the heat of the battle and incapacitating those who opted to remain fighting. It took little to no time to stop the fight, your skills drilled into you at the hands of many a brawling instructor and mentor throughout your childhood.

After the fight had finished, a brown-haired captain adorning a straw hat with a red ribbon approached you, telling you straight out, “Pack your bags, I need you on my ship,” to which you shrugged with a simple “aye, Sir”.

In your travels with the young captain, you were immediately taken with his innocence and fearlessness to be anything other than what he is: a simple man with the charm and charisma he needs to lead a crew, but also with the mischievousness and playfulness that comes with his inexperience. His heart is intensely displayed on his wrists, his desire to serve and protect those in need was admirable. You would follow him to the ends of the earth, with nothing to add than a simple: “aye, Sir.”

Friendship, proximity, and sleepless nights by each other’s side had a small whisper of emotion beginning to form within the very central point of your heart. The longer you remained with him, the more this feeling began to burn within you. You put it all down to the need to serve your captain well or perhaps a small crush if anything else. Choosing not to engage with such childish emotions, you smothered the feelings as soon as they began.

But there was something about the way his hips were swaying tonight. Something about the way his eyes sparkled, his nose scrunched and his lips drew out to reveal his playful grin under the glittering stars around the festivities that held you hostage to your unquenchable emotions.

“Nice meat!” Luffy’s voice cut through your inner monologue, prompting you to shake your head and blink slowly away your enchantment, “you had any yet-? -You haven’t had any yet! Here, have some!”

Your captain thrust an empty paper plate into your hands before piling a mountain of food atop the plate; it bending beneath the weight of the variety of items.

“Captain, slow down!” you giggled, shooing his hand holding tongs with the dangle of cooked meat waving from the end, “I’m not going to be able to get through all this, but thank you for thinking of me.”

“Anything for my Quartermaster,” he shot you a small wink, “gotta make sure you’re taken care of, you know?”

Your eyes fluttered rapidly in a flustered blink. You shook your head once more and furrowed your brows at his comments. He looked down at your plate, gesturing with his hands for you to begin eating.

“Whatever you don’t eat, I will,” he shrugged, leaning back in his place beside you and looking up at you with eyes full of adoration and appreciation.

“Thanks Luffy, I trust that you will,” you giggled, placing the plate down on the ground and tucking your hair behind your ears and away from your mouth. He smiled up with his broadening grin as the rest of the crew continued to eat the delicacies this area graced you with.

You felt his gaze continue to hold to you as you continued to dine with the other straw-hats, then pouring drinks from the large jug for one another and laughing to a tale Usopp was recollecting. He sat up briefly, noticing some strands of your hair began to fall back in front of your face and immediately reached up to tuck the locks behind your ear with his thumb and index finger. A warmth drew itself upwards to your cheeks at this unrestrained gesture, but you did not shy away from his affection.  

Sitting in silence, Zoro continued to hold his intense gaze in unwavering focus against your interaction and dynamic with the captain. His left brow arched at the subtle touches, lingering on your flushed face before looking to the mischievous expression your captain currently was adorning.

“Hey Cap’n,” Zoro smirked up, collecting a beer bottle from beside him, “why don’t you and the Quartermaster have a little dance after dinner? She hasn’t had one all night.”

Your eyes widened at Zoro, a scowl falling to your lips in wordless reprimand. Zoro’s smirk broadened with his left brow arching upwards to taunt you further. Before you managed to get a word out to chastise him further, Luffy spoke up to interrupt your thoughts.

“Sounds good to me!” he exclaimed with joy, “how about it, Quartermaster? Dance with your captain?”

Words fell halted in your throat, the breath you were going to use to speak them caught behind your parted lips. You snapped your gaze back to your captain, snickers from your crew began to whisper in hisses behind their clenched teeth.

“I-I don’t think I could-,” you began, watching your captain as he eagerly rose to his feet and extended his hand out towards you.

“-You’ll be fine,” he smiled, collecting your hand from beside you, “let’s go, music’s starting again.”

“Aye, Sir,” you nodded, allowing him to pull you to rise to your own feet.

You turned your head back to your crew as Luffy began leading you towards the open fire, closer to the vicinity of the music. Zoro’s smirk-like grin was plastered openly on his lips, shooting a small wink towards you at your unsettlement. Nami gave you a small wave, wordlessly uttering to you: “learn why he dances like that.”

You inhaled sharply through your nose with eyes scolding your crew before being twirled within the arms of your captain to meet his hazelnut orbs.

“Just relax, okay?” he scrunched his nose up while pressing his forehead against yours, eyes twinkling with mischief, “I know what I’m doing, let me lead you.”

A small squeak found its way to your throat, eyes wide and cheeks flushed. He chuckled, taking both of your hands within his and began to effortlessly sway with you.

Crossing your arms upwards, he spun you to face away from him; rocking you within his arms briefly before experimentally intertwining his limbs with your own. He twirled you once again to face him, collecting your right hand within his left and placing his right hand wrapped completely around your shoulders beneath your left arm. He held you close in a tight and flush embrace, exaggerating his hips outwards and leading your feet to the beat and rhythm of the music.

Your eyes were wide and frantically looking everywhere else, breath hitching as he led you in the movements with such poise and ease. Meeting your eyes with the taunting and teasing gaze of the green-haired swordsman, you began to fall out of time to Luffy’s movements and stumble a little. You watched the swordsman’s chest tremble as a laugh fell from his lips at your stumble.

“Hey, hey, hey,” Luffy’s voice called to you, drawing your face up with his left hand weaving itself away from your right, “what’s the matter, are you okay?”

Your breath caught in your throat as he reached his hand up to touch your cheek tenderly. He continued swaying the both of you to the music while his eyes searched yours for the source of your unease.

“I-I just,” you began, your own eyes fluttering its concentration between his, “I’m a bit self-conscious dancing like this. It’s a bit-, uh-…”

He nodded with his brows furrowed, leading you with his verbal tone; “-a bit…?”

You clenched your teeth with a small grimace, “-a bit out of the ordinary? A bit unusual to be dancing like this?”

“Oh!” he nodded, returning his broad smile to his lips. He released your cheek from his left hand and again sought out your right to claim, “you don’t have to be self-conscious. As I said, I know what I’m doing. And if the attention bothers you so much, keep your eyes on me!”

The flush returned to your cheeks, the warmth threatening to tint its way to cover the entirety of your face as he confidently wove your right knee between his legs and swung his hips to the beat. You released a shaken breath from your lips, closing your eyes to bring your focus away from the Straw-Hat crew and their teasing gaze. Reopening your eyes, you met with the warm smile of your captain.

“There you go!” he complimented you while tracing small and indistinct lines on your spine, “‘atta girl!”

Internally, you were screaming. Your captain’s praise was nothing foreign to you, especially when in the heat of combat. Within the proximity he currently held with you, dancing you provocatively within the romantic atmosphere, this praise felt especially outlandish. Shaking your head to rid your mind of the fog his verbal praise rose within you, you kept your eyes fixed on him. His eyes softened as he began to hum along to the melody, twirling you away from him. Although his twirls moved your body far from his, he would always bring you back to hold you securely within his arms with his hips almost flush against your own.

As the dance continued on, you began to get more confident in your movements and trust for him to always support and lead you through it. He would sweep you into long-arched dips, circling around his body before having you snap back up to fall within his grip. All laughs and smiles drew upwards against your cheeks, a laugh or two flinging from your chests in glee to the music.

“How do you know how to dance like this?” you breathily asked him while he again twirled you to face away from him.

He released your hands from his grasp as he slowly ghosted them over your ribs, dragging them to rest on your hips. With closed eyes, he brought his lips up to your exposed neck and whispered against your skin: “Shanks taught me.”

Your glazed eyes opened widely, a small “oh” parting from you in surprise. You had heard many tales about Red-Haired Shanks and his crew of seasoned pirates from your captain. It should come as no surprise to you that he had shared more knowledge than the influence of a life of piracy onto your captain, but apparently the charm that comes with sensual dancing.

“When you were a child?” you asked him, lulling your head over as he continued to hold his lips a hair’s length away from your skin. He hummed in confirmation, the vibration prompting your pores to spring upwards over your neck and forearms.

“And the knowledge wasn’t lost to you over the years?” you quizzed him. His hands shifted you within his arms, turning you to face him again.

“I practiced with my brothers,” he chuckled, placing his forehead against your own, “my biggest brother would play guitar sometimes. I’d make my other one dance with me to the music.”

Before you could ask Luffy any further questions on the matter, the music concluded and your captain released you from his arms and cheered loudly to praise the musicians for their song. You trailed your gaze from the raven curls atop your captain’s head down over his sun-kissed skin to hold your lashes half-lidded as they sought out his eyes once more. He was so handsome, you knew that much was certain. All the time you spent together aboard the Merry had you drawing yourself closer to him, but now; you were completely smitten.

His joyful and lilted praise drew itself to a close, him turning to meet your eyes once more with his warm eyes. He reached his left hand down to collect yours within his comforting grip.

“Did you want another dance?” he asked hopefully, before he tore away his gaze to seek out a vendor’s stand behind him, “or we could get a drink? I could go for another one of those juice-things, I think.”

You giggled, reaching up your left hand to caress his smooth cheek. His skin ignited beneath your touch, glowing alongside the smoldering embers of the beach-front fire.

“As long as I'm with you, I’ll follow you anywhere,” you answered whimsically, prompting him to reach his forehead down to touch against your own. His nose scrunched up once more, his lips drawing out to a large smile as he answered you.

“Okay, great! Juice first,” he confirmed, nodding against your head, “then more dancing.”

“Aye, Sir.”

#one piece #opla #opla fic #one piece live action #x reader #luffy x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #monkey d luffy #luffy fluff #fluff

[gurugirl]

The Amateur | Special Preview

sugardaddy!ceo!harry x burlesque!dancer!yn

New Patreon exclusive short series preview! Part 1 out now on Patreon!

Series Summary: Y/n is a down-on-her-luck burlesque dancer sleeping in her car. Harry is a wealthy CEO looking for someone to spoil.

Preview Word Count: 1.7k

Her costume was lost or had never been ordered. She wasn’t sure. So, instead of having her first dance routine that night, she was booked to serve cocktails for a private party. Not how she envisioned her dance career progressing, but a job was a job. She needed the money. She needed to eat.

She was given a basic outfit to serve cocktails in. There were four cocktail waitresses. The little outfit was a bit showy for such a job, but she wouldn’t stick her nose up at it.

She curled her hair and pinned the front back and applied makeup. She adjusted her little outfit and tugged at the hem of the skirt. It barely covered her bottom. The tall heels were a touch too small for her feet but she took deep breaths and kept calm. The private party was in a large room (not the main room) with a small bar, some tables, and a stage.

She stood toward the entrance and watched the room get set up.

When the guests who’d booked the private party arrived, Y/n took her spot as directed and saw a group of ten men with nice suits and big attitudes walk in.

She immediately walked up to the table assigned to her and smiled brightly, “Welcome! Can I get you started off with a drink gentlemen?”

There were three tables for the guests and four cocktail waitresses spread amongst them.

Two beers, a whiskey neat.

Back and forth.

A round of shots for the group.

Water. Don’t forget the lemon.

No ice for the one with the grey suit and pink tie.

Her feet were killing her. She leaned against the bar and slid her shoes off for a moment of relief. The fucking things were an inch too high and a half inch too small, and she was struggling. She took a breather and watched over the table she was working. They had just gotten fresh refills and more water so they would be good for a bit.

The dancers on stage were having fun. Y/n could tell they were fill-ins. Not main stage worthy. Like Y/n, amateurs most likely.

Bethany put her hand on the bar next to Y/n, “Can you take my table their drinks? I need to go to the bathroom,” she told Y/n the order and ran off.

The bartender quickly got the order ready and Y/n reluctantly slid the borrowed heels back onto her feet. Somehow, the short rest for her feet only made putting the tight shoes back on worse. Her gait was affected. Her heels were blistered, and her toes were smushed in. She tried to maintain a natural stride on her way to the table but the only way she could stand to walk was to go very slowly.

“IPA?” She lifted the pint up and a man raised his hand as she placed the glass in front of him.

She handed off the drinks one by one and the last was a bourbon on the rocks. The only man who’d not yet been served was looking at her with anticipation of receiving his drink. She moved toward him and her attempt to not step fully down onto her heel had caused her to lose her balance and she dumped the whiskey onto the man’s nice suit.

She gasped and so did the man. Kicking her heels off she ran to the bar to grab towels and then back to the table.

“Oh my goodness! I’m so sorry, sir! This is my fault. I’ll pay for the dry cleaning…” She got to her knees and placed the towel over the top of his thigh and looked up at his face with worry and noted his surprised smile.

She used her other hand to wipe the table as she blotted the towel over his thigh. She had not expected a smile from him.

“Don’t worry. Happens to us all. I don’t need you to pay for the dry cleaning either,” he said as he took the towel from her.

His voice was calm and deep. He sounded British. She stood up and stared down at the man and realized how kind he looked. His smile was genuine and the dimples poking into his cheeks were boyish and cute. He had crystal green eyes and broad shoulders. He was handsome. She was thankful that he was kind.

“I’m really so sorry, sir. I feel so bad. I’ll get another one for you and make sure to put all your drinks on the house,” she knelt down to pick up her heels and as she turned to go back to the bar the man gently grabbed her wrist, “Another bourbon is fine. You don’t need to comp any of my drinks, though. Please. You didn’t do anything wrong. It’s okay.”

She looked down to where he had her wrist. He had rings along his long fingers. His hand was big. She looked back up to his face with a smile, “Are you sure?”

The man with curly brown hair smiled and nodded, “I’m sure.”

The rest of the night was far less exciting. When Bethany returned Y/n went back to her original spot. But she couldn’t stop herself from looking at the other table to the man who’d been so kind to her, even after she ruined his suit. He was attractive and it was clear to Y/n that Bethany also thought so. She gave extra attention to him. Anyone would.

When the guests had left and Y/n could put on her sneakers, the room got cleared and everyone went their separate ways. The club didn’t serve food, which Y/n had kind of hoped it would. She was hungry. She’d barely eaten anything all day long. Her day started off early trying to perfect the routine but then after hours of practice, she learned she wouldn’t be on stage because her costume was nowhere to be found.

Running back and forth in tight heels to serve liquor was just as tiresome as dancing on a stage. And being hungry on top of it all was brutal. Her stomach was growling as she walked out of the club and to her car parked at the side of the building where all the employees parked.

“There you are!” The voice of a familiar-sounding man startled her.

Y/n jumped and lifted her head to find the British guy with the bourbon-stained suit approaching her. Her eyes widened. As nice as he seemed in the club, she was hesitant to give him her full trust at 1 am in a dark parking lot with no one else around.

The man stopped in his tracks, “I’m sorry. I know you probably didn’t expect to see me, but I noticed you walking out and thought I’d just come and, I don’t know… maybe say hi,” he suddenly seemed more timid. Perhaps he realized how scary it could be as a woman to be approached by a man in this way.

Y/n gripped her keys tight and looked around. His soft smile put her at ease a little, “Yeah. I figured you guys all left already. I was just leaving for the night. Everything okay?”

Even in her alert state, she still wanted to make sure the man was all right. She was probably too nice for her own good.

His husky laugh sounded like relief in Y/n’s ears and it made her smile, “Everything’s fine. I was hanging back. I have a friend who works here. Just happened to see you leaving is all.”

Dimples.

Bright eyes.

Dark curls.

Tattoos, that she hadn’t noticed until now with his sleeves bunched up to his elbows.

He was attractive and his demeanor slowly put her at ease. She loosened the grip on the keys in her hand and finally smiled at him genuinely.

“Oh. Who do you know?”

“The owner. Richard. Short guy,”

“Bald,” Y/n spoke with a smile and Harry grinned back at her and nodded.

“Yeah. I’ve known him for years. Always lets me get in for a quick last-minute private party if I need. A lot of my colleagues enjoy the atmosphere.”

Y/n nodded and kept her eyes on the man. They both fell silent.

“Uh,” he lifted his hand up in a waving gesture and rubbed the back of his neck, “I’m Harry.”

Y/n’s smile widened, “Y/n. It’s nice to meet you, Harry.”

Harry nodded and stayed in his spot on the other side of her little car. He didn’t want to make her uncomfortable by getting too close.

“So, guess you’re headed home, huh?” Harry looked at her little silver car and back to her.

Y/n nodded, “Yep,” she didn’t know what home meant but she would consider her car her home at the moment.

Harry looked down at his feet and back toward the car, “I uh, are you new here? I mean, I only ask because I’ve never seen you around.”

Y/n nodded, “First day. Was supposed to be in the main room on stage but my costume was never ordered or it was lost, or I don’t know… So they had me serving cocktails. I just need the money so I’ll do almost anything at this point,” she laughed and her shoulders relaxed a little more.

Harry’s brows furrowed and he frowned, “Understandable.”

The silence grew loud again and Y/n shifted on her feet. Suddenly the sound of her stomach gurgling in hunger filled in the space in between them and she laughed it off, “Wow. I should uh, go get something to eat.”

Harry kept the small frown on his face, “Well, there are plenty of places open. Vegas baby. Right?” He chuckled lightly, “I guess I should leave you alone, huh? So you can find a spot to grab a meal,” Harry spoke as he backed away from her car, and slowly headed toward the main parking area.

“Well, it was nice to meet you, Harry. Thank you for being so kind to me on my first day,” she slid the key into her door to unlock it and kept her eyes on the man.

He nodded and put his hands into his pockets, “It was nice meeting you, Y/n. And I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. I’m around often.”

A/N: This 3 part series will only be posted on Patreon. If you'd like more of this, I'd be so thankful to you for subscribing! xoxo

#harry styles smut #harry styles #patreon exclusive #ceo!harry #sugardaddy!harry #sugar daddy!harry #harry styles x reader #firstpost #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fiction #harry styles x yn #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n #harry #harry smut #harry x reader #harry x yn #harry styles angst #harry styles fluff #dancer!yn #harry styles concept #harry styles imagine

[utilitycaster]

Talking as players outside the game is an incredibly important part of having good PC/PC D&D relationships, and obviously the characters involved in the relationship talking to each other in meaningful ways is crucial, but I think the importance of talking in-game in depth to other people is really underrated, in that it not only tells the other player what your character is feeling without having to reveal it in-game to them, but also serves to engage other characters in the story and deepen those platonic bonds to the point where they might even serve as confidants or wingmen. To give a bunch of examples and what they achieved:

Vax telling Gilmore he didn't want to string him along made it clear out of game that his feelings towards Keyleth were his priority, even though it happened where the other characters were not able to hear.

Similarly, Vex giving her blessing eventually after her initial resistance signaled to Liam that this would not be a major break between the twins.

Vax asking Vex what she intended to do about her feelings for Percy served not only as an opportunity for her to voice them to someone; it also serves as a big green light for Taliesin as Percy to kiss Vex later that episode (which he had already from Vex's resurrection ritual, but it underscores it).

Pike talking about Scanlan with Keyleth and Vex allows her to make it clear that she does ultimately like a lot of things about him despite sometimes being annoyed, and her talking to him through her earring while Scanlan is very much not there but Sam is at the table also serves as this kind of green light.

Jester asking Veth about kissing in relationship to Fjord lets Travis know where Jester is at and invests Veth in-game in the relationship.

Caleb asking Jester if she's "sweet on [Fjord]" lets her openly reassess her feelings after an intense arc and also indicates in-game that Caleb has noticed.

Beau waiting to hear the sound of thunder signals to Ashley (who was not at the table but who was presumably staying updated on events) that Beau has feelings for Yasha; it also allows those playing Yasha (often Matt for pure RP and Travis in combat) to return that flirting, since the baseline was already established.

Possibly the most obvious example, but Beau and Fjord's conversation on Rumblecusp not only clarifies to the whole table where everyone is (opening the door, for example, for the scenes in the beer garden a few episodes later of Caleb having Fjord and Jester dance together and Caduceus encouraging Yasha to pursue Beau) but very much serves as a green light to Ashley and Laura respectively. This is then mirrored by them talking after Beau has asked Yasha on a date and Fjord and Jester have kissed, and everyone involved can "debrief" with their partners not present in-game.

As mentioned, this is mostly about PC/PC relationships because PC/NPC is an inherently different dynamic mechanically though still should be a conversation, but Veth describing Yeza and Jester asking Caleb about his feelings about Essek both give Matt clues for playing these NPCs and how things might be received.

FRIDA mentioning their crush on FCG to Deanna means it's not a complete surprise to Sam, since it is a very sudden relationship, and lets him prepare and decide how FCG would feel in the moment, and also establishes how Deanna will feel about it.

Similarly in the C3 Uthodurn arc, Fearne going to Chetney about Deanna is an incredibly good move from Ashley (to the point that talking about this is what led me to write this whole post). It lets Travis play out where Chetney is. It lets Aabria therefore hear not only where Chetney is, but also know that Fearne is potentially interested. It establishes a ton of the dynamics for a relationship that out of game everyone knows will not have a full campaign to play out since one of the characters involved is a guest. And finally, it signals to Christian as FRIDA what the situation is in case Deanna confides in them.

#critical role #genuinely this came from hearing snippets of rose city and Ashley's choices as fearne and thinking through some of her greatest hits #and also just thinking about how like...and this is a separate post #but how silly little small talk and joking and tiny reciprocated moments are so much of the connective tissue of a relationship #like...there's a reason why ashley's characters' relationships are good even when she wasn't around a ton in past campaigns #and it's because she does try to make the characters have moments when they can so it will count #the i've seen you a lot line or like that awkward watch early on are tiny but do so much and let Marisha as Beau know to keep going

[sometimesanalice]

Like I Can (Part 3)

Summary: After yet another bad date and tired of swiping on apps, the Dagger Squad steps in to help you out by setting you up on a series of blind dates. Much to Rooster’s dismay.

Warnings: fluff, swearing, slight angst. Minors DNI

Length: 7.2K

Pairing: Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw X Female Reader

Part 1 | Part 2

(All’s well that ends well❣️ Enjoy!)

You’d been on edge all day. 

Having slept terribly the night before, you’d woken up early and giving up on the idea of going back to sleep had ended up at a sunrise yoga class, hoping that some movement would help you clear your mind. By the end of the hour you were even more frustrated than you were before you arrived, the poses feeling unnaturally forced instead of flowing seamlessly as they usually did. 

So much for some goddamn inner peace.

Work was even worse. You had arrived to find that the espresso machine was broken. And whoever made a pot on the ancient drip machine, that was undoubtedly pulled out of a dingy storage closet somewhere, clearly hated everyone else since it tasted like tar. You could barely focus enough to clear out your inbox, when your work nemesis started breathing down your neck about a proposal that wasn’t due for another two weeks. 

Time was dragging on. And every time you looked at the clock thinking it had been at least an hour since you’d last checked, were continually shocked to see that barely fifteen minutes had passed by. Thankfully it was Friday, so your boss didn’t care when you called it a day and left at lunch. It was better for everyone this way.

You had tried painting your nails, but didn’t have the patience to let them dry and smudged them trying to open a package of crackers. Ignoring the crumbs that got everywhere as you ate them while working the cotton pad over the remnants of your pretty pink polish. Your new favorite show didn’t hold your attention like it usually did and you found yourself mindlessly scrolling on your phone, missing most of the plot you’d had to restart it. Twice.

Not even the scenic drive along the coast to the restaurant you were supposed to meet your date at had done anything to alleviate your nerves.

You had been surprised at the choice of location when you had received the text message with the information about this particular date. As much as you enjoyed going to the Hard Deck, you were very much looking forward to drinking something other than a beer. Sure, Penny could make a mean spicy margarita, but sometimes an overpriced aesthetically pleasing cocktail just hit the spot better than anything else. 

But most of all, you were thankful for a change of pace and the privacy this offered you. You had never been one for the spotlight, and dating on display had left you feeling drained.

You’re sitting in a surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker dining chair on the outdoor patio of the new trendy fusion restaurant you’ve been dying to come to. From your spot tucked away in the corner you can see the ocean waves rolling in and back out again. The golden rays already promising a stunning sunset later in the evening.

The foliage of the giant potted monsteras and birds of paradise made the terrace feel like a lush oasis, and contrasted stylishly against the large painted terracotta tiles on the ground. The pergola that covered it was dotted wisteria amongst the other climbing greenery, and numerous oversized hanging rattan sconces. The dainty lights woven throughout reflecting off the wine glasses on the table.

This was exactly what you needed. Too bad you couldn’t let yourself enjoy it, the twisted knots in the pit of your stomach had served a constant reminder of your nerves all day.

You had used this date as an excuse to finally buy the deep green floral dress you’d had your eye on for ages. The gentle drape of the neck was subtly sophisticated, while the high slit on the side added some serious sex appeal. 

There was nothing wrong with a little retail therapy you had told yourself as you’d swiped your credit card. If you looked good, maybe it would help you to feel good.

In all honesty, it probably had a little too much sex appeal since you couldn’t stop fidgeting in your chair trying to get the silky dress cover up more of your thigh that was currently displayed rather provocatively. It felt like the more you tried to get it to lay right the more of your leg was exposed. 

It probably didn’t help that you couldn’t stop the restless bouncing of your leg. You weren’t usually an antsy person, leg bouncing had always been more of Rooster’s anxious habit than yours.

Maybe you’ll feel less exposed once you draped the linen napkin across your lap. You’re tempted to do it now, but you don’t want to disturb the artfully laid out tablescape before your date has arrived.

It had been three weeks of back to back truly terrible dates. You could see the finish line now, but you couldn’t say that it wasn’t wearing on you. It had sounded like fun in theory, but now you weren’t so sure you would said yes again if you were offered a do-over. 

You were tired. 

Tired of going through the motions with men who could hardly be bothered to do the bare minimum. Tired of trying to sell the best version of yourself. Tired of putting on a show when all you wanted to find was an easy kind of love.

And this particular date had you more on edge and anxious than any of the other ones you��d gone on.

Even if you were pressed, you could not remember a single thing about the guy Payback had set you up with on your most recent blind date.

That evening you hadn’t even bothered trying to put together a cute outfit for the meeting. Instead, the only real effort you’d opted to put in was painting your lips a bright red as an attempt to psych yourself up for it. You didn’t usually wear such a bold color, but when you did it never failed to make you feel more brilliant.

And while you couldn’t remember anything about your date, what you did vividly remember was the fight you got into with Rooster that night.

You had been coming back from the restroom and on your way back to your date when you had bumped into him rounding the corner. 

“Sorry, that was my fault,” he’d said as he reached out to steady you with hand going to your waist, dropping it once he realized it was you. “Oh, hey.”

Glancing over to your date who seemed absorbed in some game he was playing on his phone, you figured he wouldn’t miss you if you spent a few extra minutes away to catch up with Rooster.

He had been acting really distant lately, taking a couple days to respond to texts rather than a couple of hours like it usually took him. Natasha had told you about the rigorous training they were being put though, and you had assumed it probably had something to do with that. However, you couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off between you two.

Rooster was already pulling away from you and taking a step towards the bar when you reached out grabbing his wrist to keep him with you. Looking around for a quiet place to talk, you’d heard him sigh behind you, but still held on to him as you made your way to one of the high-top tables in the corner by the empty stage. 

You’d stopped and let go as you turned towards him, only to find him already looking at you with an expression that landed somewhere between expectant and exasperated. The cuffs of his shirt straining around his biceps as he crossed his arms over his chest. 

“Well?” he grunted out.

Was he mad at you? You couldn’t think of any recent arguments you’d had recently that would explain the harsh tone he was using with you. 

“Is everything ok? I feel like you’ve been really off lately. You know I’m always here for you, right?” Your hand was already reaching out to touch him, but you resisted the urge not wanting to further agitate him.

“Nothing’s wrong. I’m surprised you even have time to talk to me with all these washouts you’ve been wasting your time on. You’re the one with the busy social calendar, not me.” He was looking over the top of your head avoiding your gaze now, the bitterness in his voice had stunned you. 

“Seriously? What is the matter with you?” 

He’d never been so intentionally callous with you before and it hurt. 

“Listen, if there is an issue me dating the people your friends have been setting me up with, you need to let me know,” you’d said pointing a firm finger at him, your anger rising. “This was supposed to be a fun no pressure situation, but I don’t want to be in the middle of this if things are getting heated between you guys. It’s not worth it to me. But you don’t get to ignore me for days and then claim that I’m the one avoiding you.”

He made a noise of frustration as he dragged both hands through his curls. You could see the flex of his jaw as he’d clenched his teeth together.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he ducked down to that his eyes were level with your, and you could see the remorse in them. “You’re right, that was shitty of me to take it out on you. I’m just… tired.”

You’d simply nodded at him, feeling like you weren’t on the same page as him didn’t sit well with you. “Phoenix told me about your new training program, it seems intense,” your voice sounded small even to your own ears.

“Yeah, the training,” he’d sighed out pausing for a moment as he weighed his words, rubbing at his chest, “It’s taking a toll on me, but that’s my problem. I mean it, I’m sorry.”

“Are we good?” you searched his eyes, your friendship with him was so important to you.

“You and me? We’re good, kid. Always.” He’d reached out and squeezed your shoulder before heading back to where the group was gathered together pretending like they weren’t just watching your argument play out. 

Needless to say, your head was somewhere elsewhere entirely as you made your way back to your date. You’d felt bad being so distracted, but your mind just kept playing the argument on repeat. It was like your brain was trying to pull apart every little word to decode something that you didn’t think was there.

After Payback’s friend had left, you rejoined everyone else around the pool table. You couldn’t tell if the mood was off or if it was just you reading into things, since they hadn’t been prodding you with questions like they usually did.

Natasha was in the middle of giving you a glowing review of the man she had been bragging about since she first offered to set you up, when Rooster came to sit with you both.

“He’s just your type. He’s an engineer, so he’s smart. He’s got that whole glasses wearing and floppy hair thing going for him. And he’s funny. Rumor has it that he talked back to his Rear Admiral one time and got away with it because the guy had found him amusing. I fully expect you to name one of your future children with him after me.”

Rooster had surprised the pair of you when he stood up so violently that he almost knocked over the beers on the table. 

“What the fuck, Bradshaw?” Nat had exclaimed as you both worked to rescue the teetering bottles from becoming casualties from his sudden movement.

You had no idea what he was going to say as an explanation for why he’d jumped out of his seat the way he did, but what he ended up unexpectedly announcing instead of answering Nat’s question had sent you into a tailspin.

So now here you are in a restaurant you’d be dying to go to, fidgety and anxious in a probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative dress for a first date with the guy who Rooster was willing to break his long-standing rules for to set you up with.

To say you were feeling the pressure was an understatement. No one knew you like Rooster did. He’d seen you at your best and at your worst. He wouldn’t just pick any random guy he knew, he would be picking the one who he thought would be the best for you.

The thought should be comforting, but you couldn’t shake the feeling of uneasiness.

You pick up your phone again and double check the time in the text that Rooster had sent you with all the details for your date with his friend. 

It was either that do that again or moving the ever-so-slightly crooked gold salad fork back into place.

You’re about to open Instagram for the third time since you sat down, turning when you hear a throat clear purposely behind you.

“Hey, sweet girl.”

For Rooster, when you’d first agreed to participate in the bet with his friends those dates started off as annoying inconveniences. Just inconsequential disruptions that got in the way of his time with you.

You were his best friend and at his bar, yet he felt like he’d hardly seen you these past couple of weeks- or at least not as much as he would have liked. 

Sure, he got some time with you here and there at the end of the night like when you had late night tacos on the beach. Or when he’d taught you his favorite pool trick, well more like attempted to teach you, he loved how stunningly bad you were at the game. But he felt like he was competing with these idiots his friends had picked out for your time and your attention. 

He wasn’t used to sharing you. In the past, if you had a date that conflicted with something spontaneous he wanted to do or something that the group had planned together, more often than not he could get you to move it or cancel completely.

He’d never been above a little bribery to get his way, he knew what you liked.

You going on dates wasn’t a new concept to him, but seeing them paraded in front of him was a different story. And he was getting really tired of watching you from across the bar while feeling like you were out of reach.

The more of them you went on, and the more he heard Natasha crowing about having the perfect man for you the more agitated he felt. The worse that feeling in the pit of his stomach got. 

The evening of date for Payback’s pick, they’d all seen you walk in through the doors of the Hard Deck wearing that shade of red lipstick. You’d wore it so well. His friends had immediately started speculating about what it meant. Phoenix had called them all idiots, and while he couldn’t claim to know anything about make-up and those things, he did know you didn’t just wear that color for no reason. 

He had vague memories of his mom putting the color on when they’d go greet his dad, at least he like to think those were his memories. Or maybe they were just something he’d created in his head from all the time he had spent looking at old photos of his mom and dad together, her smile always outlined in the color. His favorite was the one where his dad’s cheeks were covered in bright red lipstick kisses as he smiled indulgently down at his mom while a young Bradley was propped on her hip clutching his prized F-14 Tomcat. He had that one framed on the end table next to his couch. 

And seeing that color on you for a date with this random guy had rattled him.

He’d felt so terrible later that evening when he took those feelings out on you. Hating himself as he lashed out at you. Hating himself as he saw your face fall and the hurt in your eyes. Hating himself for being the person who made you feel bad.

And the crux of it all was that you weren’t wrong, he had been deliberately distant by being slow to reply and ignoring texts from you. He wasn’t proud of it, but he didn’t know what else to do. He’d hoped by creating some space that it would help him to try and get his head back on straight. 

He’d let you assume that he was tired from the new training program they were being put through. What he didn’t tell you was that he was already outperforming everyone on the team, and that he hadn’t had to do any extra push-ups in a week and a half. 

He was tired because he hadn’t been sleeping, and he couldn’t sleep because every time he tried to close his eyes all he could see was you on these dates. Replaying them in his mind’s eye wondering what the outcome would have been had they not gone so terribly wrong each time.

The what-ifs swarming around his brain day and night like agitated hornets.

While he had been quick to apologize for being a dick, the sharp pain that settled behind his sternum wouldn’t subside no matter how much he had tried to rub it away.

He didn’t know what was more unbearable, the idea of losing you to a chance encounter of circumstance. Some meet cute courtesy of the universe that he couldn’t see coming until it was too late, when it’s already too far out of his hands and out of his control. To see you grinning that smile so bright, the one so wide it made your dimples appear, as you introduced that guy to him. 

Or sitting here night after night analyzing every little thing as you date the people some of his closest friends had picked out for you. Watching and hoping that these dates would just be funny stories you told on drunken nights out rather than the story told at your wedding about the night that everything changed when you met your person. Of having to be happy for you even as you pull away from him.

His ears were ringing and he’d felt his stomach drop. 

He could see it now, a day when your life ran parallel to his rather than entwined as he was used to. Of you with a partner. With children. Of him as ‘Uncle’ Rooster, demoted to the rank of ‘longtime friend of the family’ rather than a core member of it. 

The thought of it making him feel sick. 

All evening he had been moving around like a ghost completely lost to the thoughts in his head, but now it felt like he’d been shocked by a live wire. He’d pretty much jumped out of the chair he had just settled in, almost knocking the beers in front of him off the table completely. 

“I want in, I’ll do it,” he’d blurted out, interrupting the conversations that had continued on around him while he had been spiraling. “This whole thing has been a complete shit show. I can’t watch this anymore. I know a guy, I’ll set it up. I’m in.” 

His hands were sweating as he hoped no one would call his bluff. He’d made it a point to actively avoid looking at you. You had such an uncanny way of reading him. 

“I don’t know, Bradshaw. You’re a little late to the game, aren’t you? I’ve been saving the best for last, and I’m ready to collect my winnings.” He’d expected some shit from Hangman, but he never would have guessed it’d come from Phoenix. 

Feeling his anger flare up, he reached into his back pocket and fished out a $100 bill from his worn leather wallet, double the original entry fee. He slapped it down on the table, leaving no room for any further discussion, “I’m the one setting her up for the next date.” 

He’d caught a look between Hangman and Phoenix, but he couldn’t be bothered to read into it as he tried to keep his temper in check.  

He wouldn’t lose you. Not to someone who didn’t deserve you, especially when he already knew the person who could make you happy.

“Alrighty,” Jake had drawled out, as he pocked the bill. “Looks like we have another player. I look forward to taking your money.” 

He’d extended his hand out and they’d all shook on it, reaching Phoenix last her grip firm and her smile sharp. And that was that. 

Now he was here at the new popular restaurant he’d heard you talking about a few weeks ago, his feet cemented to the tiles beneath him just gazing at you. 

He could tell from where he was standing behind you that you were nervous by the way you were opening and closing apps without truly looking at anything. He knew it was a habit of yours when you were feeling anxious, something for your hands to do as you tried to distract yourself.

He had sweet talked the hostess over the phone into reserving the best spot on the outdoor terrace, and you looked so beautiful sitting there wearing his new favorite color. Your hair is held back by a delicate golden clip on one side leaving the line of your neck exposed, the sea breeze picking up a few wisps.  It makes his teeth ache with want.

He knew you were gorgeous, he’d stared down enough men at the Hard Deck to know that others thought so too. However, he’d never let himself sit with those thoughts for too long, not trusting himself to keep his mind from wandering. 

You were his best friend. 

And best friends don’t think about how the other would look so perfect in their bed, that pretty green dress forgotten on the floor. 

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look under his arm.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you would look with his ring on your finger.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect you are for him.

Best friends don’t think about how perfect he is for you.

Him.

It was a good thing he didn’t want to just be your best friend anymore. 

He’d already done too much thinking, done too much waiting. He wasn’t going to miss his moment. 

Taking one more deep breath, he made his way to you.

“Rooster? What are you doing here?” He was the last person you’d expected to see when you turned your head to see who had been trying to get your attention, “Are you ok? What’s wrong?”

Did he get emergency orders? Did your date get in an accident? 

Your anxiousness was quickly morphing into panic, you’re already half way out of your seat when he puts his hand on your shoulder, his thumb stroking the skin there reassuringly. 

He is standing there looking completely at ease, as if he belonged there, “Nothing’s wrong, sweet girl.” 

And there it was again, you hadn’t been sure if your ears were playing tricks on you the first time he’d said it. That simple term of endearment silencing the alarm bells that were going off in your head, the edges of the lush restaurant softening around everything except him.

“Your mom always called me that,” you say softly. 

You cherished all the memories you had with Carole, the woman who had been such a significant figure in your life for so long. You knew your mom still sent Rooster a cake every year to celebrate her birthday from whatever bakery was closest to wherever he was stationed. 

“I know, I remember,” his voice so warm and deep, “She loved you.” 

He says it so simply, so sincerely. As if his presence here hasn’t just completely untethered you and sent you adrift in a sea of bewilderment.

The writhing snake that had made a home all day in the pit of your stomach finally disappeared, only to be replaced with the fluttering of wings that you were desperately trying to ignore. 

You’d been so shocked when Rooster had exclaimed that he was going to set you up with someone, your mind had been whirling so much at the time you could barely focus on anything that had been said in the aftermath of his announcement. Maybe you had missed some caveat he’d come up with for his participation in the bet? That could make sense, considering how adamant he had always been in the past about never getting involved in your love life. 

He was standing there looking so good in his best short-sleeved button up shirt, the one that was scattered with vibrant palm leaves that fit snugly against his body. And wearing the white slacks that usually had you looking anywhere else in the room to avoid acknowledging the way they clung to your best friend’s thighs and ass. If only he knew how weak they made you. 

There just has to be a logical reason for why he’s here, but the soft smile on his face was rendering your brain uncooperative. 

You were getting tired of feeling like you were missing something that should be so obvious, “My date is supposed to be here soon, are you going to hover in the back like you have been at the Hard Deck? Or are you just planning on pulling up a chair and third wheeling up close and personal?” 

“Why would I need an extra chair,” he asks as he pulls it out and eases his large frame down onto the wicker seat, “When mine’s already free?” 

You move to open your mouth when the waitress arrives, asking if you had your drink orders selected. 

“I’ll do the Bourbon Sidecar. You feelin’ like a gin, sweet girl?” You just nodded at him mutely, still desperately trying to catch up. “And the Clover Club for her, please.” 

It’s what you were planning on ordering to calm your first date jitters before had Rooster arrived and sent you into a complete tailspin. He hadn’t even looked at the thick textured cardstock of the drink menus that were strategically placed just to the right of the golden soup spoons on the artfully laid out table. 

The butterflies were threatening to break free from the tightly locked cage you had attempted to shove them in. 

The waitress took down the drinks, and you watched her as she crossed the patio pausing to tap away on the screen of their POS, trying to give yourself a few more moments to collect your thoughts. 

“Bradley. I don’t understand, what’s going on?” He’s sitting there looking so secure, so steadfast, so sure. 

His cheek ticks up, “I like it when you call me Bradley. Why did you stop calling me that when you moved out here?” 

“You’re avoiding the question.”

“Why did you stop calling me Bradley when you moved out here?” he asks again, leaning in. How does he expect you to answer a question, when your mind is going 1,190 miles an hour? 

“I don’t know,” you start with a halfhearted shrug. “You’ve made a name for yourself in the Navy, you are ‘Rooster’ to everyone here.” You open your mouth to say more, before closing it quickly.

“There’s more going on in that head,” you feel his foot reach out tapping against yours under the table, before leaving it there a steady presence. “Tell me.”

You know you can tell him anything, but this feels different.

The intensity of his stare has you fighting the flush you feel spreading across your cheeks.

It wasn’t something that you’d ever given much thought to before, but you know if you answer truthfully now that he’s asked you it’s going to leave you feeling more exposed than you’ve ever been with him. 

You sit up more fully in your chair deciding to be brave, “I mean, we haven’t really truly been in the same place since we were teens, and things are so different now. It was easier to start calling you ‘Rooster’ or ‘Bradshaw’ like everyone else, because it didn’t make me feel like I was piece from a different puzzle trying to force myself into a new picture. I wanted to fit into the life that you’ve built here, to feel like I still have a place with you as you are now.”

You’re actively fighting to keep your eyes on his. It would be so easy to look away or to laugh off your confession, but for whatever reason, you don’t want to take the easy out. 

“I never knew you felt like that, but I wish I had,” the look in his eyes is softer than anything you’ve ever seen from him before. “I like being Bradley to you, I want to be Bradley to you. You aren’t just a piece to me, you’re the whole picture. You’ve always had a place here, exactly as you are you are now.”

It’s never been like this between the two of you. It feels like you both are saying too much and not enough all at the same time. As much as you find yourself wanting to sink into these intoxicating yet unfamiliar feelings, you know you’re still holding yourself back.

God, he is so handsome. You had been right, the sunset that was just starting was stunning, but the way golden beams were hitting the lightened strands of his curls was spectacular.

You’re almost too afraid to ask, but it’s unbearable not knowing, “Why are you here right now, Bradley?”

Of course, the waitress chooses that moment to return with the drinks. 

She sets them down in front of you, the skewered raspberries sitting daintily on the side of your glass are suddenly the most fascinating thing in the room. You vaguely hear him saying you both need more time and that he’ll flag her down when you’re ready to order. 

He waits for her to leave to attend to her other tables before turning his heady gaze on you once again.

“I thought I’ve been making my intentions pretty clear here, sweet girl.” 

He takes a sip of his Sidecar before continuing, the slight bounce of his leg the only thing giving him away that he might not be as self-assured as you’d originally thought, “I’m here for our date.”

There’s no hope of containing the butterflies now. You’re a lost cause. 

“Bradley.” You can only imagine the emotions he is reading on your face. It would absolutely break your heart if this was some kind of bad joke.

“He’ll never love you like I can.” 

“What?” you ask sounding every bit as dazed as you feel.

“Sorry, sorry,” he says shaking his head slightly, huffing out a little laugh at himself, “I got ahead of myself.”

You watch as he resituates himself in the chair, wiping his hands on the front of his slacks before restarting. 

“Watching you on those dates has been hell, I don’t want to be jealous of some guy you gave a second glance. I don’t want hold back, not when we can be so much more,” he reaches across the table, taking your hand between his two large ones, “I thought having you as a friend was enough for me, but how am I supposed to sleep at night knowing that I could be the one who makes you happy and then do nothing about it? That I’m the only one who can love you the way you deserve to be loved?”

You’ve always known he’s cared for you, that was unquestionable, but to be loved by Bradley Bradshaw? It was something you’d never let yourself imagine, let alone dared to hope to for. It had been kinder to spare yourself from the heartache that came with hope. But now? With him sitting right here in front of you saying you could have him like this?

Was this how he felt flying in his F-18 every day?

He gets up and rounds the table coming to your side, hooking an ankle around the tapered leg of your chair pulling you out a bit. You’re suddenly very thankful for the probably-too-expensive-and-probably-too-provocative for a first date dress you purchased when you see the way his rich brown eyes turn molten as he gets a glimpse of your exposed thigh.

He settles into a crouch before you, his warm hands seeking out both of yours, “You don’t need Phoenix or anyone else to set you up, because he’ll never love you like I can. Let me show you how good it can be. Let me be it for you, sweet girl.”

The man in front of you is everything you could have ever possibly wanted for yourself. And to be the one who could get to keep him forever? There’s no doubt in your mind, it’s worth everything.

You’re sure you will have to have a more serious conversation about what this means for the two of you, but that can wait for another time when he’s not in front of you with his eyes so earnest. So hopeful. To another time when he’s not wearing his heart on his sleeve as he patiently waits for any kind of response from you.

It would be so easy to lean in and kiss him right now. 

So easy to learn what that mustache would feel like against your skin. 

To learn how his lips and tongue would feel against your own. 

To learn how his mouth would move with yours.

But what’s a couple more hours when you’ve had years to build up to it.

“Well then, Lieutenant. I guess you better show me how it’s done,” you bring your hand up to cup his face, your thumb gently stroking along his cheekbone. “But I’m warning you now, I fully intended to give you as good as I get.” 

Being on the receiving end of a Rooster smile was something special, but it had nothing on the beaming grin that Bradley Bradshaw is giving you now. 

“I wouldn’t expect anything else from you,” he says as he lands a lingering kiss on your cheek before standing and pushing your chair back in for you. “You’ve always known how to keep me on my toes.”

He returns back to his surprisingly comfortable wooden wicker chair, stretching his leg to rest it against yours. When the waitress comes back you both end up picking your meals at random, having been too absorbed with each other to actually bother reading the menu. 

You’d barely eaten all day because of the knots in your stomach, and now you were starving. Thankfully, Bradley at least had the commonsense to ask the waitress to pick her favorite dish as a third entrée “for the table”.

It feels the same in many ways, he knows what to say to make you laugh and what to bring up to get you fired up. And you know what questions to ask to keep him talking and how to push his buttons just right. 

But it’s also different when he doesn’t bother to hide his knowing smirk every time he catches you looking at his lips. And it’s even better when you don’t bother trying to hide yours when you catch him doing the same.

Afterwards, he takes your hand in his as you slowly make your way to the parking lot, his fingers lacing between your own. He surprises you when he leans against the Bronco, murmuring something about not wanting to let your pretty dress get dirty. His long legs extended wide as an invitation for you to come stand between them, his strong hands stroking the silky material of your dress on your hips as you step closer. 

You’ve been ignoring the pull low in your stomach all evening, the tension between you two the most luscious feeling you’ve ever experienced. The combination of his heat, his woodsy smell, the headiness of his gaze on you almost too overwhelming. 

Almost.

Your hands settle on his broad chest, playing with the button of his shirt now a bit nervous. Your faces closer than you’ve ever allowed them to be before. If what you’re hearing is the sound of the waves or the roaring of the blood in your ears, you couldn’t say.

You know he is waiting for you to make the first move. You see the moment when he’s about to say something, knowing him the words would be wonderfully reassuring and perfectly Bradley.

Why would you want to talk when his mouth was already waiting like a question. Why would you want to talk when you could learn what it’s like kiss him instead?

So you do.

When your lips meet his for the first time it feels like the sweetest kind of devotion. 

bradleybradleybradley

His mustache scratching satisfyingly at the skin of your upper lip. His mouth tasting like the Sidecars he sipped on throughout the night and something that was just fundamentally Bradley. 

Your hand moves on its own to stroke the side of his neck, your fingers seeking out the line of the longest scar that adorns his skin there from that night all those years ago. 

Your heart is beating wildly in your chest as he licks his lips before bringing his face down to yours again. Your other hand tightly clutching his shirt in anticipation.

He’s always been so in tune with you, so when he tilts your head just right before leaning into the kiss it feels like a homecoming. 

thisthisthis

One of Bradley’s hands makes its way up your back, pressing you closer to him as the other bands more securely around your waist. And when his tongue skims your lower lip, you sigh into his waiting mouth thankful for his strong grasp on you. 

Nothing your mind could have imagined would have ever come close to the perfection that is Bradley Bradshaw’s mouth moving against yours. Nothing has ever felt so good, so right.

When he pulls away, you’re both over fighting back the smiles that feel like have been permanently fixed on your faces all evening.

“I’m don’t want to call it a night yet,” he tells you, as he brushes the hair back from your face. His smile turning playful, “What do you say, kid? Wanna go get some milkshakes?”

“Depends,” you reply cheekily, “Can I drink it in the Bronco?”

Wrapping both arms around his neck you draw him back in towards you again.

“Anything you want, sweet girl,” he promises against your lips.

The next night at the Hard Deck, you entered the bar with Bradley’s arm draped your shoulders. 

His team whooping loudly when you pull him in for a kiss as he handed you a Blue Moon. They’d declared the drinks were on Bradley that night as they’d swarmed you both in celebration. Maverick pulls you aside to give you a warm hug, whispering “I knew you’d get here” in your ear before releasing you.

Now that you had let yourselves cross that line from friends to more, the pair of you are entirely too aware of the other. Never content to be too far away from the other. Your eyes like magnets, each seeking out the other to find them already looking back.

There’s nothing friendly about the way he has his hands on your waist. Nothing neighborly in the way his hands rub your shoulders. Nothing platonic in the way he rests one hand on the back of your neck, his thumb making teasing circles.

And there’s nothing friendly about the way you run your hands through his curls when he’s at the piano. Nothing neighborly in the way you slide your hand into his back pocket. Nothing platonic in the way you rest your hand on his chest, your finger tracing the line of his collarbone. 

It has always been so easy with him, even as you explore in this new area of your relationship.

You’d been orbiting around each other all night, when Jake yelled out to heckle you both about indecent exposure, threatening to call his cop friend if Bradley didn’t “get his ass over to the pool table in the next thirty seconds.”

He’d peppered your face with kisses before you’d shooed him away, laughing when you realized he had swiped your beer and had taken it with him.

“So you and Bradshaw,” Natasha states as she settles down next to you.

That makes you smile.

“Yeah, me and Bradley.” 

How could you have possibly thought you’d want anyone else other than him? You were a goner from the moment you’d turned and saw him standing there at the restaurant. Your golden boy.

You turn towards her, putting a hand on her arm, “I’m sorry that you didn’t get a fair shot at the bet. I really do appreciate the effort you all went through. I mean, Bradley would have had it in the bag anyways. But still–”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she waves a hand, cutting you off, “We had a team meeting and changed the rules of the bet anyways. I still won, so it’s all good.” Her smile was nothing less than mischievous. 

“Wait, what?” 

“We could all see from Rooster’s reaction during that disaster of a first date with all the dogs that he was completely hung up on you. We didn’t want to wait for him to figure it out, so we decided to adjust the terms a bit to help him out,” she laughs at your clearly baffled expression. “We reached out to the cringiest people we knew and set you up with them instead. And then took bets on how long it would take Rooster to get his head out of his ass and go get his girl.”

“Oh my god, seriously?” The revelation has you bursting out in laughter.

“Yep, well except for Bob. His date was a genuine accident, bless him. I’ll be honest, I didn’t even bother reaching out to anyone. I was betting on Rooster getting it together before I needed to step in,” she explains while wearing the most self-satisfied smirk on her face.

Of course Natasha Trace had bet on him. On you.

You couldn’t wait to tell Bradley how you had both been so absolutely played by his team. 

You loved these people. You loved your life here in San Diego. 

“I’d apologize for putting you through all that, but it looks like it worked out well in the end,” she says knowingly nodding her head towards him. 

You’re fully watching him now as he bends over the pool table looking amused at something that Hangman says. 

Bradley looks up catching your eye and shoots a wink in your direction, a grin taking over his whole face. You already know you’re wearing a matching one.

“I wouldn’t change a single thing.”

Thank you so much for all the love on this one! I’ve loved sharing this journey with you all! Happy Valentine’s Day Everyone! 

If you want to know what happens next for these two you can check out my masterlist! 

Written as part of @roosterforme’s #Love Is In The Air TGM Fic Challenge!

Song Inspiration Sam Smith’s “Like I Can”.

Thank you Jordan (@gretagerwigsmuse) as always for being the ultimate hype girl! 

Taglist:

@sehnsuchts-trunken @top-hhun-main @itscheybaby @prettylittlelauraa @startrekfangirl2233 @marantha @callsign-viper @teacupsandtopgun @itsizzythebell @shanimallina87 @angelbabyange @boltgirl426 @oneelleandaneye @mizzzpink @cornishkat @torres-espana @uzumegui @dont-talk-me-down @fandomunite2107 @alana4610 @20th-centu-fairy-girl @pariahsparadise @pono-pura-vida @donttouchmycarrots @nina-sj @eg-dr3amer3 @whaledots-blog @a-beaverhausen @misty-inferno @angellwingsss @hangmanscoming @mandolin22 @theweekndhistorybook @lilpeekabooze @high-bi-imgonnacry @ahintofkiwistrawberry @mrsdaamneron @ruewrote @spiderman-stilinski @jayniebop @melllinaa @my-soulmate-is-mycroft @mandolin22 @imaginecrushes @soleilgrec @keyrani @finelytaylored @phantomxoxo @viridianphtalo @chicomonks @artemissunn​ @hey-assbutt35​ @mayempress​ @eddiemunsonreader @averyhotchner​ @caatheeriinee07​ @rileyanntoinette​ @lublycho

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw x you #top gun fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you #rooster x reader #rooster x female reader #rooster x you #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #love is in the air tgm #like i can tgm

[trashmouth-richie]

𝔩𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔥: 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤

𓆙 crazy! lilith! reader x eddie

𓆙 same au as this that will now be referred to as the lilith au

𓆙 summary: the beginning of how eddie met lilith. based on this ask from @serasvictoria “Loved Lilith crazy reader (so good!) and I’d like to read about the moment where Eddie first went “fuck, I’m into this.”” hope i did you proud 🥹💋 i like to think eddie met her and couldn’t stop thinking about her.

𓆙 tw: 18 + only, smut p in v unprotected, violence, blood, demon themes, soul mates connecting. nicknames, weed, drinking mentioned. both eddie and reader are over 18. Billy makes an appearance 🙄

𓆙 3.9k words

The bar stunk like it always did. BO seeping out from the uniforms of the guys fresh from their shift at the plant mixed with spilled keg beer. The stench wafted through the dank air creating a reeking stench that was custom for the Hideout, keeping the well lined pockets of Hawkins rich away from the hole-in-the-wall bar. 

Eddie was in a mood tonight, and his friends could feel it. By nature, he was accustomed to breaking up fights with the drunks, offering whatever asshole with a clenched fist a joint if they would just leave it be. The Hideout was like a home to him, and he hated any sort of disturbance to the small peace the shitty bar had to offer. 

But tonight? He didn’t know he would be the one to start a fight, especially not after seeing you walk through the front doors. 

He had seen you there before. Always dressed like you deserved to be somewhere better, somewhere that didn’t smell like armpits and unwashed balls. Lips painted in a deep color but from the shitty lighting he never could tell if it was purple or black. 

He watched from a distance as you shrugged off one piss drunk guy after another, each leaving with their tails tucked between their legs, muttering shit like crazy bitch, she’s fucking insane did’ya hear what she said to me? Eddie stood by and laughed, admiring the mysterious girl who wouldn’t give anyone a chance. 

Setting up equipment last week Eddie’s eyes were trained on the time, having it down to a science on when you’d show up, and there you were. Rolling your eyes to the catcalls from the old timers and going straight to the bar, a glinted smile on your lips as you purred your order, one he had already memorized from watching you show up week after week. Eddie leaned back and hollered to Jeff, asking if he knew who you were. 

Jeff said what he thought your name was, claiming you worked with his sister at the Hideaway, the diner that served beer and home style food, you were a senior maybe? But neither of them had seen you around before. 

You were a mystery to him, and he was hooked. He looked for you in classes, down the orange and green brick painted hallways. Fuck, he even went to the Hideaway but could never find you there. It was almost as if you only existed in his dreams or at the Hideout. 

Corroded Coffin wasn’t performing tonight, instead the four guys leaned over the sticky table in the back corner, their table, tossing quarters into a shot glass and shooting the shit. Well three of the four were having a good time, the other was quiet, brooding behind dark eyes. 

You had walked in like you always did, 10 o’clock on the dot, only this time you weren’t alone. 

Billy Hargrove? Really? 

Eddie couldn’t help but roll his eyes, how fucking cliche could you be? Finding the first swinging dick in Hawkins with a loud car and immediately going on a date with him. Eddie was disgusted, but more so, jealous. 

Hours ticked by, and beer after beer, one gut rot shot after another, Eddie’s jealousy brewed into pure hatred. His dark eyes bored into you, but you didn’t even notice. 

He hated you. Hated your stupid smile, the way you kept giggling at Billy’s jokes. just wait til you see him naked, sweetheart, the laughing won’t stop there, he thought to himself. 

Loathing the way your black painted nails curled into Billy’s denim jacket, no doubt he probably fed you a line about how he works out. Eddie’s eyes roll back again and he breathes heavily through his nose, sucking the last shot of whiskey through his teeth, letting the bitter taste melt on his tongue and burn with each fiery drop down his throat. 

Trying to keep himself busy, he finds himself flicking open his switchblade, pressing the top of the blade into the black leather cushion, wishing it was Billy’s neck instead. He can’t hear what anyone is saying behind him, didn’t even notice that Gareth was talking about learning a new song. His full attention was on you. 

Billy gets up from his bar stool, the noise from the drag of the legs on the floor scratches against Eddie’s skin, adding insult to injury. He shoots you a wink and makes his way to the back towards the bathroom. 

Watching him disappear into the dark lit corner, Eddie stands on wobblier legs than he would have liked. Boots heavy and clunky as he stalks his way over to you. Not at all knowing what he was going to do or say, going on pure adrenaline. 

Your perfume hits him first, a warm note of vanilla mixed with a tobacco hint of camels. The red top you’re wearing is cut low, showcasing your pretty neck and plunging deep into the cleavage of your tits. A black leather jacket sits on your shoulders, the zippers shining with the warm light. 

Your eyelashes bat at him as he approaches your table, but you still don’t look his way, and he stands next to you like he’s known you for years, drawn to you like a moth to a flame. 

“I’ll take another one of these,” you say, pushing your empty glass towards him with your middle finger, “make it a strong one.” 

“I don’t work here,” Eddie scoffs, moving your drink out of his way and placing an arm on the back of your chair, glaring down at you “but you already knew that.” 

The air shifts when you look up at him, it’s heavier, thicker than peanut butter, and you almost choke at the way his Adam's apple bobs in his throat. 

“What makes you think I would know that?” 

Eddie shifts, the liquor on his breath is spicy and warm. 

“Because I've seen you here before, and not once have you ordered a drink from me.” 

A wicked grin coaxes its way to your lips and you cross your legs, the toe of your high heel touching Eddie’s knee, and you lean your elbow on the table closer into him. 

“Stalking me big boy?” 

“And if I was?” his voice is low, the ends of his hair sway as he dips into your space, eyes never leaving yours, making sure he was all you could see as he whispers, “something tells me you wouldn’t mind that.”

The toe of your shoe grazes his inner thigh and the tip of something hard, making the corner of your lip tease up as you pluck the stem of the cherry from your empty drink. Bringing it to your mouth, you never stop looking into his eyes, and his haven’t left yours either. 

The flesh of the cherry breached your lips and you lick the bottom of it, humming at the taste of the grenadine and sour whiskey on your tongue, finally biting the cherry, you toss the stem behind you. Chewing softly on the sugary fruit and leaning back, Eddie’s eyes taking you in. 

His ringed hand crawls up your stocking clad thigh, circling your soft skin, rubbing at the hem of your skirt. 

“am I right, sweetheart?” 

He doesn’t need you to say he’s correct because he already knows, your eyes speak for you, a dark glint to them, dripping with want, and he wouldn’t doubt if you were to open your legs that your panties would wet with a sweet heat he desperately needed to taste. 

“You’re pretty cocky for a guy who’s been staring at me for months but has never said a word until tonight.” 

It's Eddie's turn for silence when your pretty nails reach out to trace the handcuffs on his belt, shifting your legs so the left is now crossed over the right, each taking more and more from one another waiting for the first to break. 

“Why tonight? hmm?” your nails rubbing against the metal and leather, thumb grazing his zippered crotch, getting a devil hint of what he has hiding beneath. “Didn’t like seeing me with someone else? Already putting your claim on me, huh?” 

He didn’t need to answer because you already knew. 

The first time you laid eyes on him he was playing the solo to Master of Puppets, the cold air seeped into your bones from your walk from the Hideaway, and you needed a drink after your shitty shift.

Your eyes met and it was instant, a primal heat that drew you in and kept you coming back, waiting impatiently. Watching from afar calculating his moves, the way he held himself so confidently, his lithe muscles rippling when carrying band equipment from the stage. The way his throat vibrated when he sang, the quick jerk of his fingers as they strummed each key. How sweaty his hair would get after his set, shit you were infatuated. 

He dips low to you again, a hand landing on your hip, sending shivers to your spine. 

“You’re lost, sweetheart.” 

Confused, you look up at him, quirking an eyebrow, challenging him, “lost?” 

His fingers squeeze gently at your hip, his other hand moving your chin so you can look at him directly, his thumb moving over your bottom lip, pulling it down and almost groaning as it pops back into place against your teeth, “yeah, you’re supposed to be with me.” 

“Well well, if it isn’t the freak caught with his hands in the cookie jar.” 

Neither of you look at Billy, the heat between you still strong, sweltering. 

“Hargrove,” Eddie greets, eyes never leaving yours, “thanks man.” 

Billy shoots you a look, fists clenched, “for what?” 

Eddie stands up straight, hands leaving you to retreat into his jacket pocket, angling his shoulders back, “bringing my girl to me, seriously, I owe you.” 

Billy smirks and chuckles, “your girl huh?” 

“I didn’t stutter.” 

Eddie dogged the first swing, ducking and jabbing a brass knuckled fist into Billy’s stomach, sending him backwards into a table behind him, peanuts and beer spray up across the bar.  

Stalking towards Billy, the shine of Eddie’s brass knuckles gleam against his fist, matching the shine of the wink he shoots you, and he’s caught off guard when you re-cross your legs and lick your top lip, hooded eyelids flashing him a sinful look of lust. 

He chuckles at the sight of you, how you’re not afraid of him, how you didn’t run, the way you look like you’re almost enjoying this. Fuck.

Billy’s boot kicks Eddie square in the jaw, blooding up his bottom lip, sending him tumbling back a few steps, giving Billy the upper hand. 

Neither of them expect what comes next. Eddie didn’t notice you get up, planting your heels on the ground and grabbing the bar stool by the legs. He only heard the thud of Billy falling to the ground and the crack of splintered wood teetering across the ground, the remaining pieces of the stool tossed to your feet. 

Heels echoing across the floor, you tiptoe around the wood kneeling down to grab Billy’s blond hair between your fingers, twisting as his head raises from the floor. 

“Date’s over,” your voice is sweet with each word, almost pleasant in the delivery, “understand?” 

“Fucking crazy bitch,” Billy spits. 

The whip of a knife whizzes past your ear, catching on the meat of Billy’s hand, nailing him to the floor. 

Billy gasps and grunts mumbling shit under his breath. 

Turning your head you look up at the dark haired metalhead. His eyes are darker than they were all night, a twitch formed in one of his eyelids. The blood dripping from his chin was sticky against his pale skin. To anyone else in the bar he looked deranged, like a demon straight from hell here in a human form, but to you? He looked like a God, a fucking King. 

The look in his eyes caused a pool to form between your legs, the black veil of iniquity clouded your vision, a certain wickedness emitted from him and you were drawn to it like a magnet.

He stomps to both you and Billy, bending down he reaches a hand over your back, grabbing ahold of your hip, making you stand up with him. 

“Wrong answer.” Eddie grunts, his boot shoving the blade in further. 

He’s taller than you expected him to be, his broad shoulders are rolled back and he peers down at you, a dimpled smirk on his lips. 

Standing on tiptoes, you reach up to his face. His strong jaw ripples between clenched teeth under your fingers. Rubbing the cut on his bottom lip with your thumb, he doesn’t flinch, only breathes heavy when you smear the blood around, and pop it into your mouth. The devil’s smile on your lips as you hum around your thumb, the acidic burnt taste of his blood on your tongue.

He groans, squeezing your hips in his big hands, bringing you into him, his stiff cock pressed heavy against your middle. 

“Wanna get outta here?” your fingers walk up against his chest, fingernails scratching down until they land on his belt, lightly yanking the leather towards you.

“Your place or mine?” His voice is low, hungry. 

“I’m not picky.” 

“didn’t think you were, c’mon sweetheart.” 

Eddie grabs your hand and drags you through the front door, your laugh fills the night air, taking away any chill from it, your bodies serving as heaters.  He opens the drivers door of his van and you get in climbing over the center console. 

He climbs in behind you, almost choking when you throw a leg back over and sit firmly in his lap. 

“Fuck.” 

Your fingers work to the collar of his shirt, ripping it down the center, showing off his pretty porcelain skin etched with scrawls of a demon-like face and a black widow on his chest, heaving as he tries not to blow his load right there and then. 

Eyes rake over him, followed by the scratch of your nails, he hisses and groans as your lips attach to his neck, licking sweet and warm under his ear, “about time you talked to me..” 

Your hips move against him, his hands burning into the fabric of your skirt and lifting slightly, thumbs searing into your thighs, “looks like you just needed to get jealous, hmm?” 

Eddie’s hands work your jacket from your shoulders, groaning as the neon light from the bar hits you, illuminating the delicate skin of your shoulders, and the tight strap from your bra, he moans and yanks you forward, hands full on your breasts as his fingers roll against your nipples. His lips perched to the column of your throat. Your moans filling the van when his tongue salves across your throat, working a hickey into your neck, “that’s what I thought big boy, mmm, you’re easy to read.”

His dick kicks up when the pad of his thumb hits a steel ball on either side of your nipples, and he bites hard into your neck, causing you to yelp and moan, enjoying the pleasured pain. 

“course I was jealous,” Eddie groans against your skin, working his tongue along his teeth marks, “fuckin’ look at you, goddamn devil woman.” 

Your hand works to his jaw, wrapping closed around his throat and shoving him back hard into the seat. Nose to nose with him, your tongue darting out to catch the flesh of his lip, whispering hot against his mouth as you press your wet cunt down into him, “you like that? The evil inside of me?” 

His hand wraps around your throat, large rings cutting into your skin, pressing hard against the bite he put into your neck. Eyes rolling to white you hum a moan so pretty against his hand his dick kicks up again, straining beneath the denim. 

He brings you close to him, lips ghosting over your own, “Like isn’t the right word.” 

His lips crash into yours, a mix of blood, spit and clashing teeth. It’s primal, the way your mouths work together, licking, sucking, lapping at one another, hungry for more. 

Your hands move feverishly against his belt, and his fingers waist no time shoving your skirt up higher, showing off the sheen from your pussy lips, slick and bare, no panties. 

He groans when his fingers push past your puffy lips and circle your clit, trying to suck him in where you need him most. 

“Fuck,” he chuckles, “you’re fucking soaked, Eddie get you all worked up?” 

“Is that your name?” you quip, working his velvet thick cock from his jeans, spitting on the tip and rubbing it around with your thumb, you wrap your fingers around his shaft pumping him once, “looked more like a Diablo,” your hand works him again, “Lucifer…” you push his head through your slick folds, sinking down enough that the head of his cock disappears, “.. or daddy to me.” 

Eddie rolls his eyes back into his head, biting his fist, and moaning loud, “fuck, you’re gonna kill me.” 

You tut between your teeth, “not tonight, tonight you’re mine.” 

Your full weight drops down onto his cock and you sigh a moan the same time Eddie groans and squeezes his eyes shut, and you take a second to catch your breath before you adjust yourself so you can circle your hips. your nails press into his chest again, leaving scarlet marks in your wake, his skin pulled from itself and under your fingers, and he can’t get enough, 

The buckles on your bra straps are plucked like dandelion heads against the cup, threads frayed under Eddie's hands as your tits bounce from their confinements, pretty piercings glinting in the neon lights. 

“Tell me,” you groan, your own hands pushing your tits together and biting your lip from the pure ecstasy that’s laced into Eddie’s cock, “tell me how good this is.” 

“Fuck look at you, taking me so fuckin’ deep.” his thumb circles your clit as his hips buck up into you, eliciting more pretty moans that rattle the windows in the van, matching his grunts and sweat-stuck bangs. “should have, mm yeah shit just like that, fuck! don’t stop, scooped you up the first night I saw you.” 

He wasn’t like the other lame dicks in Hawkins, this one seemed different, better. You knew from the moment you saw him that he could keep up with you, wouldn’t be turned away from your demon lust or the darkness that permeated through your skin. Just as Billy had said, this guy was a freak. Like you. 

Eddie lifts you up and turns, slamming you into the seat so your face is pressed against the warm leather, ass angled up, pussy split open and weeping from his cock. 

He works his dick between your folds, relishing in the way you try to suck him in greedily, chuckling as you pout and scowl when he teases you some more. 

“what’s the matter pretty girl? You don’t like being teased?” 

“no,” you whine as he does it again, laughing at your eager pussy and desperate cries. A hand lands hard on the fat of your ass and you jump under his hand, moaning and pushing yourself back into him, “more, fuck, please.”

That’s all Eddie needed to hear before he’s deep inside you again, your gummy walls clenching around him as he bottoms out, His large hand printed on your skin. “fuck you’re nasty, such a dirty slut aren’t ya?” 

“yes, fuck.” your tongue licks the leather seat, eyes looking back to see the blackness cloud Eddie’s eyes and for a split second you swore there were horns on his head. 

He pumps into you faster, met by your hand circling your clit, he leans forward to suck into your shoulder blade, licking up the back of your neck, whispering into your ear as his hips jack knife into you, “come for me, fuckin’ come for daddy.” 

Wet floods your fingers and heat coils in your belly as your orgasm spreads, the back of Eddie’s seat has moon shaped indents on the left side as you claw into it, moaning against it. 

His fingers are grabbing you hard enough it will leave bruises on your hips, he grunts into you, working you through your leg shaking high. “Did so good for me, yeah you like this cock? gripping me like a fuckin’ vice honey, ’m gonna come, where you want me?” 

You twist beneath him, facing him to see his sweaty chest, hair sticking to his neck in places, dark eyes gleaming in a lust infused state of bliss, fat cock red and swollen. The demon of your dreams. 

The makeup on your eyes were smudged from sweat and your face grinding into the seat, you lick your lips and eye the pre cum on his cock, your slick soaking his length, coating the course hair at the base. “I wanna know how we taste.” 

Eddie groans, grabbing your waist roughly and adjusting you both carelessly to the back, shoulders knocking into the seats and whatever other bullshit was tossed into the void. 

He kisses you harsh, fingers tweezed around your nipple piercing, groaning at your little moans as you bite his split lip and shove him onto his back. Peering down at him with soulless eyes you work your way down his body, tangling yourself in between his legs, you wrap your lips around his fat length. 

The heady taste of your arousal and the brine of his precum mix on your tongue, marrying into a profound taste that could only be described as heaven and hell. 

His hips wiggle beneath you, desperate for more of your mouth, you giggle before swallowing him into your throat in one single move, working your hands up and down his shaft, in tandem with your swirling tongue. 

Groans replace your desperate moans from earlier, lewd sounds streak up the fogged fucked windows of the van, and it’s not long before Eddie is spilling into your mouth, muttering nonsense. 

You suck him clean, and he hisses at your wicked tongue lapping around him. 

“Fuck Lilith,” Eddie groans, sleepy little smile on his lips as he pulls you into his sweaty chest, skin to skin, “you’re out of this world.” 

You quirk a brow and push his bangs back from his forehead, “that’s not my name, Eddie.” 

“it should be,” he grins down at you, moving your neck to plant a kiss behind your ear, “it’s a variation of the Mother goddess of all demons… and after what we just did, fuck.” he grunts, squeezing your bare thigh and hoisting you higher up to him, “satan himself couldn’t tear you away from me.” 

A wicked grin paints your lips, and you surprise yourself when you push them into Eddie’s, fingers wrapped tight around his neck. 

Eddie was wrong, you weren’t lost, just missing a piece to your puzzle, needing someone to delve into the darkest part of your mind, to be enthused by your antics, applauding your wickedness. and that someone, was found at a smelly dive bar. Him. 

Ave Satani

pls enjoy another story in the same au here

♡tag list: @dashingdeb16 @emxxblog @mopeymopeymouse @pretendthisnameisclever @mommybaby-witch @eddies-acousticguitar @tlclick73 @figmentofquinn @eddies-stinky-battle-jacket @whenshelanded @micheledawn1975 @3rd-conchord * @leelei1980 @mopeymopeymouse @browneyes8288 @emilyslutface @mmunson86 @josephquinnsfreckles @eddiesxangel @elegantkoalapaper * @str4ngergirlw0rld * @corrodedcoffincumslut @nailbatanddungeon @katethetank @munsons-mayhem28 * @mandyjo8719 @joannamuns9n @littlebookworm86 @hunnybuns-world @feyremunson

+ a few lovely moots: @taintedcigs @eiightysixbaby @prettyboyeddiemunson @succubusmunson @eddieschains @eddiemunsons-missingnipple @littledemondani

#eddie munson #eddie x fem!reader #eddie x you #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader #eddie fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson one shot

[catnipaddictt]

I like you

dbf!anakin skywalker x gn!reader

synopsis: Your dad's best friend comes round for dinner leading to some unspoken feelings being revealed

wc: 1.4k

tw: fluff, inappropriate age gap, kissing

comment: once again no beta reader so watch out for mistakes, this one goes out to @memoiich <3

The smell of your dad's cooking filled the house as you made your way down the stairs from your room. From the extra pair of work boots at the entrance way you knew he was here. Entering the kitchen you see the ‘feast’ your father had placed on the kitchen countertop. Golden roast potatoes, tender meat, and colourful greens combined together for a symphony of smell. Your mouth watered just think about it. But it was nothing compared to when he walked inside. 

His golden curls fell around his face like a halo, making his blue eyes stand out. With him he brought the smell of cigarettes and car oil, something you were used to by now. Something you sought comfort in. You have known Anakin Skywalker for a number of years now. He and your father had been friends ever since you two had moved towns. After your parents divorce you and your father had packed up and left that life behind. A fresh start. 

That was 3 or so years ago now and you two haven't looked back since. You met Anakin in your last year of highschool and that's when your silly crush began. It started off when he began coming around more often for a drink. Which then turned into a weekly event. And then dinners. You definitely weren't complaining though. 

Saying Anakin was gorgeous would be an insult to him. He was perfect in your eyes. If only you were born early. Anakin, now in his 40s, had no business running around with someone as young as you. So you kept admiring yourself and the dairy you hid in your dresser.

He smiles upon seeing you “hey princess”. That nickname, one of the many he gave you, made you internally kick yourself. “oh hi Ani” you grab yourself a glass of ice cold water, feeling his eyes follow you. “Going to come join me and your old man?” He questions to which you nod, “wouldn't miss it.” You grab yourself a plate and serve yourself some food before waiting for him to grab another beer for himself. He follows you out the old sliding door onto the concrete patio. 

Plastic chairs sit around a circular wooden table, the side facing the wall occupied by your father. He greets you with a bright smile, making you feel guilty for harboring feelings for his friend. You pull out a chair against the side of the house before seating yourself in it comfortably. Anakin sits in the chair next to you. Placing your glass on the table, you half listen into the conversation happening between the two men. Something about Anakin's work as a mechanic. You hear your name being said, and feel Anakin tapping your leg under the table. 

“Not boring you to sleep are we?” he jokes, to which your father lets out a gruff laugh. “Of course not” you smile brightly at them before turning you attention to your father, “what were you saying?” 

“Anakin was just asking about your classes.” You turn to him before replying; “same old really, too much useless paperwork, not enough practical learning.” You had been attending the community college nearby for a fine arts course - something you had always wanted to do. Which also explained while you were living at home at the moment. “You should come by the garage for lunch someday, it's only a block or two away” Anakin speaks, “might be able to teach you a thing or two.” You roll your eyes playfully, “and get covered in grease? Yeah, no thanks.” 

Anakin fakes offensive before laughing it off. You continue eating your meal while your father starts talking about engines or something you don't completely understand. You try to focus on the conversation, but find it hard with Anakin right next to you. You can basically feel his laughter roll off him. You tell yourself off for thinking this way before getting up to put your plate in the dishwasher inside. Which is good timing as your father's work phone begins to ring loudly. He mouths a sorry before taking the call. 

“I'll come help you kid” Anakin says as he gets up and follows you inside. You place your dishes in the washer before turning around to meet Anakin's gaze. You look away quickly, moving to dash off to your room. But you are quickly stopped by Anakin's hand wrapping around your wrist. “Where are you running off to sweetheart?” He laughs and you turn a shade of red that you didn't think was possible. “Sorry” you blurt out quickly. “Something is wrong, you acting off today” he states, not as a question. “It's just class, I'm stressed” you try to play it off. “Okay, want to show me your work, I'm not artist, but I'm sure I could at least try to help.”

You nod and move your head in the direction of the stairs which lead to your room. You begin to regret your decision when you reach your door. If he doesn't think of you as a child now, he was surely about to. Opening the door to your room you are greeted by posters of singers and objects that hold too much sentimental value for you to get rid of. Your CD player makes music fill the room, you must have forgotten to turn it off before going to eat. 

He moves inside your room, looking at the walls. Even though you had known him for years, he had never been in this room, your sanctuary. He speaks before you do; “I know this artist” he mentions towards your CD player. “You know this?” You question. “I may be old but i'm not that old” he takes a moment before adding “and your dad mentioned you listened to them so I may have listened to a few albums” he shrugs. You let out a snort “I can't imagine you listening to this kind of music.'' He lets out a soft laugh before you hand him the piece you had been working in for school.

He takes a few seconds before he says “this is incredible, I knew you were good, but not this good” he looks at you as he compliments your work. “Oh thanks” is all you manage to reply. “Do you have any more I can see?” “Sure” you turn around to rummage through the pile of half done works on your desk. When you run around you almost jump out of your skin.

Anakin holds a small book in his hands. Your diary to be exact. You must have forgotten to put it back in its hiding spot. You try to take it from his hands but he doesn't let you. “Anakin please.” You beg him to give it up and back into your rightful hands.

After a few moments he places the book down on your bed gently before making eye contact with you. You immediately look away, embarrassed. Anakin either just read about a normal day or knows about your silly little schoolgirl crush on him. Guessing by his next action you guess the second option. 

He takes your face between his large rough hands, tough from years of work. You can smell his cologne as he moves his thumb against your cheek gently, like you might break. “Oh sweetheart” he tilts your chin up, forcing you to look at him. “I guessed but couldn't know for sure, '' he continued. “Your dad would kill me if he knew how I felt about his precious daughter” you blink at him confused. He seems to think for a split second before speaking; “fuck it, I like you” breath, “and I know I shouldn't” he acts before you can think. Leaning down and pulling you toward him, placing his lips on yours. 

You swear you feel fireworks erupt in your gut as he kisses you. You pull apart, breathing heavily. Anakin gives your hip a squeeze, “I should go before your dad starts to wonder.” Normally the mention of your father would cause feelings of guilt but you are still starstruck. Your only reply is a nod before he removes his hands from you. “Hey come by the garage tomorrow, okay?” Another nod from you. He moves to the door, shooting you a winning smile before he is gone.

You can't tell if that was the best or worst thing to happen to you. If one Thing was certain, Anakin Skywalker would not be leaving your mind anytime soon.

#star wars #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #hayden christensen imagine #hayden christensen x reader #anakin skywalker x reader #anakin x reader #anakin x you #revenge of the sith #the clone wars #dbf!anakin

[plotsignificanthaircut555]

Bad First Impression

dealer! reader x first time stoner! Choso SMUT, 18+ MDNI

Choso makes a really bad first impression on you after catching you selling to his younger brother. When he finally apologizes, he reveals he has never gotten high. You two change that. and then....ya know....

8.9k words of pure filth. I wrote this because I was horny and high and reminiscing about my dealing days. support your local drug dealer. Enjoy. ao3

content warnings- SEX, drug use, subby choso, kind of in charge reader, choso has a tongue piercing because i made it up, riding, eating pussy, a lot of talk about spit, like a lot, also a lot of talking about smell, again its nasty (im kind of on my high horse about weed, sorry, )

You met Choso a few weeks back. The air was hot and thick inside of the long ranch house. Bodies packed together, music blaring, lights of all colors and strobe speeds dancing through the space. You had been invited by the party's hosts to help “supply” the partiers with anything and everything that could keep them going all night. You didn’t deal in anything that hard, mostly weed, mushrooms, you could get acid easily if it were requested of you, occasionally you helped distribute the stray gram or two of coke for nights like this. But you tried to cap your work in hard drugs there. That night you were only holding ten or so pre rolls, and a quarter of unground flower, ready to help any first timers learn the process of smoking all the way from the beginning. You had already sold the single gram of coke you had been asked to bring with you, mostly to the wilder of the pair, who was currently grinding so hard with his boyfriend, the other host, that you were beginning to worry they’d lose their clothes soon. A few other lines had gone out earlier in the night, their users sweating away on the dance floor in front of you. You didn’t partake yourself, but you enjoyed seeing the results of your labor in their smiling, energized faces.

You kept to the side for now, sipping a warm light beer out of a flimsy solo cup. A hand tapped your shoulder and you turned to face a fresh faced girl with a cute auburn bob.

“Hey you’re the …..dealer….?” She kept her voice low when she uttered the street name of your profession

You matched her hushed whisper, “yeah. But you don’t have to whisper. Everyone here is already pretty fucked up. Anyone undercover would certainly have incriminated themselves.”

You were intending to make her laugh and put her at ease but she looked a bit panicked, smiling wryly with big wild eyes.

“I’m joking, babe.” You smiled at her, “what do you need?”

She giggled a bit, exhaling her anxiety, “I was hoping you had some more pre rolls for my friends and I?”

She gestured behind her to a pink haired guy and a taller black haired guy standing off to the side. The two of them were watching her nervously, but trying to remain cool, turning away quickly when you looked, one of them even whistling to convey his faux nonchalance. These kids are freshmen for sure.

“Sure.”, you nodded at her friends and at her before opening your bag and pulling the jar of pre rolls you kept sealed, for maximum freshness.

You picked through them briefly, “how many do y’all want? Are you guys pretty heavy smokers or still getting the hang of it?”

“We’ll-uh— I guess just whatever you smoke? I’m sure that’s good.” She shrugged, clueless.

No chance they could take what you take.

You pulled two of your lowest level strains. These kids were for sure just figuring out what they liked and you didn’t want them greening out in the middle of the party. Both because you had your own memories of over serving yourself and spending the subsequent eighteen hours truly and utterly miserable and you didn’t want to potentially cheat yourself out of three eager new customers.

“Why don’t you start with this, I’ll give you the second one as a freebie for your first time. it’s Zelato, mid strength hybrid strain, you won’t be too up but you won’t be couch-locked either. I think you guys will like it. If you do, you come back and see me, okay?”, you offered her the two pretty pink pre rolls along with your contact info and she gave you a clean crisp bill in exchange before fluttering back to her friends.

You watched the trio excitedly hurry out to the backyard, like kids on Christmas wanting to play with a shiny new toy fresh out of the box. You liked the job, you enjoyed gathering more and more knowledge about strains and terpenes and sharing what you had learned with your customers. Patients felt like a better term, but it also felt a bit self congratulatory. But it felt true, you loved how natural weed was, it made you feel more like a botanist or a healer than a pharmacist. Still helping people manage anxiety, pain, depression, or just to have a fun night and relax, but without all the side effects and the regulation.

You hoped she and her friends would call on you again. They seemed nice and like they could use someone like you. Especially if they were already experimenting with drugs and partying, it helps to have a dealer you can trust. One that isn’t just wanting to make money, but wanting to educate as well.

You were considering heading outside to smoke a joint of your own, a treat after a job well done. You would probably bail soon, the party seemed to be declining from its apex, and soon your services would no longer be needed. Before you could turn to head to the back yard you felt a strong hand clap around your shoulder. This was so different from the timid shoulder tap of your earlier customer, it almost made you laugh. You didn’t laugh, however, at the grip that stayed on your shoulder, pale knuckles clasped tight around your bone.

You followed the hand up the arm and finally turned to face your assailant. Dark, angry eyes ringed with smudgy purple eyeshadow met yours. A large black bar was tattooed across the bridge of his nose, in the dim, colored party lights you thought it almost looked red. His dark hair was messily tied up in two knots on either side of his head, you thought you could see piercings up along the sides of his ears and he was irate, staring right into your eyes, his lips were moving but you were so stunned and the music was already so loud, you couldn’t hear what he said. You found yourself opting to watch his mouth move for a moment, admiring the fullness of his lips, and the wicked snarl they held.

He was hot. Like really hot. But who the fuck did he think he was grabbing you like this?

You came back to your senses and smacked at his wrist, “back off, dude.”

“Did you sell drugs to my little brother?” He repeated, and this time you heard him. His voice was rough and low, he didn’t release your arm, instead gripping tighter.

“I don’t know who your brother is, I don’t know who you are. Get your fucking hand off of me, asshole.” You gripped his wrist tight and tried to pull it from you. Your touch was like nothing to him, this guy was strong.

He didn’t let up, gesturing behind him with his other hand to the pink haired boy from earlier, red faced with embarrassment,“The fucking kid that you sold drugs to. He’s not even twenty and you’re trying to dope him up?”

“Dope him up? What are you, ninety? Get the fuck off of me” Finally you pulled his hand off of you and pushed him back, hard.

“He’s still a kid, he doesn’t need your shit. Stay away from him.”

He had stepped too far by insulting your craft.

“I never even spoke to your brother, his friend is the one who bought it. Take it up with them if you have a fucking problem.”

The boy, the brother you now knew, and his two friends rushed up, trying to deescalate the quickly rising situation. People around you were starting to take notice.

“Choso, come on relax, we were just experimenting a little. It’s not anything crazy! Everyone smokes weed in college!” Little Brother tried to laugh off the stakes of the situation but his trembling voice betrayed him.

The man in front of you hadn’t stopped glaring at you, he seemed to be calming down a bit, but you could practically hear his blood boiling.

“Yuji, I told you not to come here. You’re here to study, not to mess around and get high.” He barked at his younger brother, who seemed to crumple lightly.

You were seeing an opportunity for a somewhat graceful exit so you started to withdraw, “sounds like this is a family affair, so I’m gonna head. Fuck you, don’t grab random women you don’t know. Kid, your friend has my card if your cop brother decides to let up.”

With your last comment you glared back at the older brother, before turning and leaving the party, Choso seething in your wake, anger now directed at the trio instead of you.

You figured that would be the end of it. That asshole ruining your night and probably never getting another sale out of those three. It was a week later that you got a message from the girl, Nobara, who you had spoken to. She wanted to buy again and you set up a date with her to come by your place and pick up from you. She seemed apologetic in her texts, but you couldn’t blame the girl, you were just thankful she reached out again.

It wasn’t until you opened the door that you realized why she had sounded so sorry. Swinging open your front door you were met with the same asshole who had been bouncing around in your mind making you furious again and again, it was a set up.

“Fuck off.” You slammed the door in his face, locking it loudly.

He knocked before speaking through the thick wood of the door, “I’m here to apologize.”

Yeah, right.

“Don’t care. You can go.” You were already retreating from the door, pissed that not only did you have to see this clown again, but you wouldn’t be getting the money from the deal you had lined up.

“Please let me apologize. I was way out of line. Yuji asked me to come here. Yuji’s my brother, from the party, please I want to apologize.” His voice came muffled from the other side of the thick wooden front door.

He sounded…..desperate. Embarrassed, maybe even ashamed. It wasn’t okay that he grabbed you, yelling at you without even knowing what had happened, but you couldn’t help but think he sounded genuine.

Kicking yourself already, you unlocked the door and opened it. He looked pitiful; big, brown eyes that once were so angry, now turned down giving him the look of a hurt dog. You could see now, in the light, that he had dark bags under his eyes as well, he looked like he had barely slept. His hair was down instead of pulled up like the other night, it hung in loose waves, stopping right at his shoulders. The black tattoo across his face was somehow less threatening, it looked almost like a bandage. The makeup from the other night was present again but softer somehow. You should have been so mad, you should have yelled at him for putting his hands on you and demeaning your work. But seeing him like this, you couldn’t help feeling bad for him. You opened the door and he looked down at you. He was taller than you remembered, a head or so above you. You met his eyeline and leaned against your door frame, crossing your arms in an attempt to maintain your cold demeanor despite how quickly you were forgetting why you had been angry.

“I never went to college.” He blurted, your face must have betrayed your confusion because he elaborated, “I don’t really know how it’s supposed to work. I guess drugs and parties and whatever are part of it. I overreacted. I want to make sure Yuji has a future and a good one, he was the one who deserved to go to college and I didn’t want him to mess up his chance. But that’s not fair. He deserves to have the full experience and I can take that from him.” He huffed out the last part quickly.

You raised your eyebrows. His admission was wandering and full of half offerings that you could piece together to create a clear-ish picture of an older brother pushing his younger brother to try his best and remain undistracted. You could empathize with that, but it doesn’t give him a pass to put his hands on you.

“I told him not to go to that party, I know the guys who were throwing it and I don’t want them taking advantage of him. Yuji’s a really great kid and he’ll go out of his way for pretty much anyone, and I didn’t want to see him get involved with people who don’t care about him. So I went to the party to bring him home, but when I saw him and his friends smoking I figured they had already started working him over and I took it out of you instead of them. I should never have grabbed you like that, or spoken to you like that. I’m sorry.” The words spilled out of him like a boiling over pot, fast and bubbly, quickly falling back to a simmer once out.

Choso looked lighter, still hanging on anxiously at the prospect of forgiveness, but lighter after bearing part of his soul to you. His hands that had been clenched into fists at his sides now hung freely, shoulders dropping slightly with less tension pinning them back. You felt lighter too, clearly the other night had been a misstep, and he obviously felt terrible.

Now that you felt saited in your week old anger, you could finally allow yourself to acknowledge how hot he was. Your anger towards being harassed had distorted your memory of him, he was tall and toned. You would have guessed he was a swimmer or did some kind of daily work that kept him in such incredible shape. The T-shirt hanging loosely over him was cropped enough to end right at his hips, a small sliver of skin peeking out underneath. He wore a simple pair of dark jeans and boots, nearly identical to what he had been wearing at the party. In the daylight you could see he did have a few piercings in each ear, hoops through his earlobes, silver barbells riddling asymmetrically along each ear's cartilage. His nose was strong and structured, lips full and pouted. You had never seen a tattoo like his before, obstructive and obvious right across the bridge of his nose, pure blackout work.

God that had to hurt.

“Why didn’t you go to college?” You pried, resting the top of your head on the doorframe as you looked up at him.

He looked surprised but shrugged, tucking his hands into his pants pockets, “Families are….complicated, I guess. When our parents died, I wanted to be there to look out for Yuji. He was always special, if either of us deserved to have an education, he would have been the one to do something with it.”

You couldn’t help but feel moved. This guy had quite the sob story, dead parents, a younger brother he was the caretaker of, it was noble for him to have sacrificed his own aspirations to support those of his brother. You admired it. A silence settled in between the two of you, wind rustled the trees outside of your house, you could see the chill set over Choso, he had turned his gaze to the ground, jaw set, hands still in his pockets.

“You want to come inside?” You opened the door more, allowing him to see inside.

He cocked his head a bit at you. You couldn’t blame him, you had told him to fuck off the moment he got here, and now you were inviting him inside. Still confused he nodded finally and you moved aside to let him in. He stepped in tentatively, as he passed you you could smell something metallic and organic, like wood stain or metal grease. He stood awkwardly in front of your door as you closed it.

“The smell is kind of…intense in here.” He cleared his throat.

“Right, I’ve gone a little nose blind to it. I hope it doesn’t bother you too much. Would you like anything? Water, coffee, I don’t know if you like tea. I have some beer or something like that if you’re feeling like drinking at 2pm.” You offered, realizing you didn’t actually know why you had invited him inside. Sure, he had looked cold but really you didn’t want him to leave yet.

“Coffee, if you have it.” He perked up a bit.

“Always.” You walked over to your small kitchenette.

You lived in a one bedroom. It really should have been considered a studio, but technically your bedroom did have a door. The living area, entryway, and kitchen were basically all one large room. You had a brown couch along the wall next to the door facing the tv, an afghan blanket draped over the back, a low coffee table in the middle covered in various hobbies of yours: books, your bong, half done crafts. A two chair dining set sat mostly unused against the far window across from the front door, you never sat there unless you were working, you took nearly all your meals in front of the tv. A bad habit you knew you should avoid, but just couldn’t bring yourself to break.

Your bedroom was off to the left, with the bathroom attached behind the door. It was a pain to have guests over, knowing they would have to walk through your bedroom in order to use the restroom. But it was a good incentive to keep your room tidy! You were suddenly thankful your anger had fired you up to do some cleaning this week, grumbling to yourself while folding laundry, “another thing-s” and “if he fucking tries again-s” leaving you as your scrubbed the bathroom and made your bed.

Choso was still standing, watching you, hands in his pockets.

“You can sit down if you like,” you nodded towards the couch, pulling two mugs down from where they hung above your sink.

You heard the sounds of his clothes rustling, some jewelry jingling, and the creek of your old couch adjusting to new weight. You tried to stay focused on pouring the coffee, pulling some sugar packets from a small drawer beside your coffee maker.

“Black is fine for me.” He piped up from the couch, he was sitting so stiffly, hands folded in his lap, back straight, thighs rigid as if just his presence would break something.

You dressed your coffee how you liked and grabbed his black cup and brought them over to the coffee table, sitting next to him. You sipped your coffee, watching him take his time doing the same.

“So if you didn’t go to college…” you started carefully, “how do you know Geto and Gojo?”

“Geto and I used to work together. Before he went back to school. He’s not a bad guy, neither of them are.” Choso held his mug close to his lips, he was being so honest, you got the sense he struggled with hiding his feelings. Hence the temper.

“Earlier, when I said I didn’t want Yuji around them. It’s not about them. They’re fine guys. I just don’t want Yuji getting distracted.” His voice was even and firm, he really did sound like someone’s parent.

“I get that. Those two…they’re kind of their own breed. I know what you mean.” You leaned back a little on the couch, letting one leg cross over the other.

Gojo and Geto were intense, and they had a reputation for throwing wild parties and nearly getting kicked out every year. You let the camaraderie of shared secrets hang between the two of you before pressing further.

“So I take it you and Yuji had a talk about casual drug use?” You couldn’t help but smirk a little, taking a mental tally of the bong on the table, the joints rolled and packaged on your dining table, the bag of flower tucked beside your tv.

Choso let out a strangled laugh, clearly an unfamiliar sound for him, “yeah he uh…he kinda let me have it. I know I made an ass of myself, but I didn’t realize how much I had embarrassed him.”

You joined his laugh thinking of the smiley, awkward kid laying into his much more intense older brother.

Choso turned his body toward you, “look, it’s not you. It’s not even the drugs. I just don’t want him losing himself to anything before he has the chance to figure out who he is and what he wants. I don’t want him stuck with something when he’s just barely starting his life.”

You couldn’t stop the laugh that left you. Quickly it progressed to a fit of laughter. Choso was not laughing, he was watching you laugh at him. Something serious that he had shared with you, a real fear and concern of his that you were now cackling at. You could see the hurt in his face start to give way to anger again, and you came down from your fit.

“I’m sorry, I really am. I get what you’re saying, but don’t you think you’re kind of overreacting. It’s just weed, he’s not shooting up in alleyways. He’s not dedicating his life to anything, he’s just relaxing and having a little fun with his friends.”

“It’s my job to make sure he stays focused and I don’t see how smoking is going to help him.” He crossed his arms, starting to get agitated.

“Seriously? A little weed, a big cup of coffee, and you feel like you could knock out all the work you’ve been putting off for weeks. It can help you get rid of all that noise in your head that makes little tasks feel big and scary. You know what I mean?” You were a little on your soapbox now, but when he shook his head silently it dawned on you.

“You’ve never tried it?” You marveled at him. He had to be 26 or 27, and he hadn’t tried it once?

He shrugged again, “I don't really have a lot of free time, I guess?”

You gasped happily, suddenly all the anger was erased under a new beautiful light of discovery.

“Choso, you have to try it. If anyone needs it, it’s you. All that responsibility, you’ve got to be stressed out, give yourself an hour or two to get away from it. You’ll love it.” You had moved onto your knees now, energy shooting up your body.

“I don’t know…”He was smiling despite himself, hesitation in his voice but excitement leading the charge.

“ If you try it, and really try it, right now and afterwards tell me you hate it, we can forget all about this and we’ll be square and I won’t sell to Yuji and his friends anymore.” You offered already thinking about whether a joint or glass would be better for him, “but if I’m right and you like it, I get a new customer and you get completely forgiven for the other night.”

Choso looked into your winde, eager eyes and felt his reservations melt, how could he say no.

“Okay. Just a little.” He agreed, finally cracking a smile onto that stern, beautiful face.

An hour later, one coughing fit from him attempting to use a bong, and half of a joint later, you and Choso sat side by side on your couch beautifully high. Smoke hung thick in the room, his head was leaned back against the back of your couch, his ropey neck on full display, adam’s apple bobbing as he swallowed again and again trying to wet his dry mouth.

You rested your head on your wrist, watching him grapple with the high for the first time. You had turned some music on, something low and vibey, just to keep up the ambience and avoid any paranoia brought on by old house noises or -god forbid- silence itself.

“Did you want some more water?” You offered, gesturing to his mostly full cup that he had kept forgetting about.

He sat up slowly, “Yeah, that sounds good.”

Leaning forward, he grabbed the cup and drank it down furiously, wayward droplets spilling out of the sides of his mouth. You watched closely as the little stream of water slipped between his lips, down the side of his chin, across the cut of his jaw, and down the column of his throat, passing the chain he wore and trailing underneath the neckline of his t-shirt. Your mind raced before you could catch it, you imagined how it would feel to slide your tongue up its wake, the cool water contrasting against his hot, flushed skin.

Quickly blinking away the fantasy, you saw he was looking back at you. He had been watching you, his dark brown eyes moving all over your face in an unreadable expression.

Could he read your mind? Could he tell how you had been imagining him?

He finally blinked and looked away, drawing in a breath and leaning forward to place the glass back on the coffee table, “Sorry.”

Before you could brush away the apology he continued.

“So how long have you been…..doing this?” he settled back down against the couch, the weed soothing any lingering nerves.

“A couple years, it's a good way to keep myself in school and avoid any debt. Plus you get to make your own hours, it's flexible.” You shrugged, “and, I don't know, I guess I like that it helps people. To have fun and relax or like, helping them just get through the day. I like that I can help people feel better.”

He looked surprised at you, and you shrugged again, feeling your face burn slightly.

“I get it's a dumb thing to say, and I know I'm really patting myself on the back here, but that's why I like it.” you pulled slightly at a loose thread on the hemline of the couch cushion underneath you, avoiding his gaze, avoiding his judgment.

“I dont think it's dumb. I know what you mean.” the sincerity in his voice was so simple, as though thinking anything else hadn't even crossed his mind, “I already feel more relaxed than I have in years. I didn’t know it was like this, so you helped me. I like that you want to help people.”

You smiled, you couldn't believe this was the same guy you had met so poorly the other night. He smiled back at you, a crooked, unpracticed smile that seemed as shocking to him as it was to you. You let the smoke linger between the two of you, both inside and outside.

“So obviously you know my job, but what is it you do?” you scooted a little closer on the couch.

He slumped a little, “a couple things, I do tattoos, piercings, that sort of thing..I’ve been working at an auto shop for the last few months, on days where I don't have appointments.”

“Do you do your own?” you asked, you had only seen the one across his bridge, you weren't sure if he had anymore.

“A few. I didn't do this one,” he gestures to his nose, “Not the one on my back, but a few others, yeah”

“Do you like it?”

“I do. I always liked to draw,” he stretched to scratch the back of his neck, “a buddy of mine let me into his shop a few years ago. I only started the car stuff when Yuji went to school, it's a good skill to know, helps me feel useful.” he shrugged, “I like working with my hands, it keeps me out of my head.”

“Are you in your head right now?” you asked, hoping being with you was relaxing him as much as the weed had.

“No.” He smiles just to himself, closing his eyes and taking a few deep breaths, enjoying how clear and simple his usually racing mind felt, “I kind of forgot it's supposed to feel like this.”

You laughed a bit, “It can be.”

He laughed too, a calming, easy chuckle.

“I’m glad you came by today, Choso.” You said softly

“Me too. I know I said Yuji asked me too, but I wanted to come and apologize. I was out of line, the over protective big brother act is so lame, I know. We’re just…all each other has.”

He suddenly was struggling to find the right words, he didn’t usually talk this much. The drugs had made him chatty, you had made him relaxed. Choso realized he hadn’t been alone with a woman in months, going on a full year. He spent nearly all of his time working, rarely went out with his few friends, and almost never went out on dates. He hadn’t even thought of being interested in a woman in weeks, choosing to rely on himself whenever the rare sexual urge did arise. He wasn’t a man without libido, but he was usually so focused—stressed out— sex just kind of lost priority. But here, sitting next to you, nerves hazy, voices soft, it was quickly climbing back up his priority ladder. He hadn’t noticed the first night how beautiful your eyes were, now they were slightly lidded and sensual as they looked over him, pupils wide and hungry. Your lips were full and shapely, a little dry from the smoke, but your wet tongue would dart out occasionally to moisten them again. His neck grew hot thinking about how soft your tongue looked. He bet you tasted so good, the lingering taste of coffee and smoke in your mouth, sliding your soft tongue against his, running your skilled hands over his body. He had watched you rolling the joint earlier, it was so routine, so ritual for you, but it was so intricate. You had clearly perfected it, nimble fingers filling, rolling, and sealing the flower inside of the pretty pink paper. Looking at them now, he wanted to put them in his mouth, to suck on them, to feel them tangle in his hair while you rode him right here on your couch.

He thought he would burst into flame when your fingertips touched the top off his hand, derailing his perverse train of thought from continuing.

“Choso?” Your voice was so soft when you said his name, it sounded right coming out of your mouth. You liked the way the letters tasted, he liked the way your tongue slipped around each sound, directly into his ear.

“Thank you, for giving me another chance.” He said finally.

Neither of you were sure when or how, but you had become very close. You could smell the sting of tea tree oil on his skin, now identifiable, and see every little crack in his glossy lips. You were staring into his bottom lip, as if summoned he drew it in, whetting it before releasing it again. He could see you watching him, he was watching you right back, he could feel your hot breath against his face, he could smell your shampoo, he could see the small coffee stain on the corner of your mouth, he wanted to be the napkin or shirt sleeve you’d use to wipe it away. Before he realized it, he was leaning closer to your lips. Your heart raced as he came closer, you weren’t sure how you had gotten here, just minutes ago the conversation was so benign and so casual, and now there was this…heat… between the two of you. You watching his mouth, him watching yours, you felt the electricity in your body ignite. The fingers that had been on the back of his hand trembled slightly as he leaned forward. He was moving so slow, being so careful to not push you. You gripped his hand tightly and pulled him closer, connecting your lips.

Your eyes were closed tightly, or else you would have seen the way his flew open before rolling back in his head. The same hand that had first grabbed you a week ago now moved up your arm and up to your jaw, pulling your lips harder against his. His kisses were hungry and desperate, yours were just as fevered as you felt his spit combine with yours.You moaned, lips parting enough for him to slip his tongue inside of your mouth. To your shock and delight you felt a small metal ball slide against your tongue, his tongue was pierced. You shivered, already thinking of how that cold metal would feel along your body, across your nipples, flicking against your clit. You thought you might faint as he pulled you over his lap.

He was faring no better, his hand pulling at you desperately, your jaw, your hair, your waist, your back, anywhere he could reach. He felt clumsy and a little pathetic, but he was too desperate to care. You were so hot, you smelled so good, your lips were so soft, he couldn't stop himself if he wanted to. When you finally did pull away, needing to catch your breath, he followed your lips eagerly, opting to kiss your chin or the underside of your jaw instead.

“Choso” you whimpered, pulling lightly at the hair at the back of his neck.

He continued kissing along your neck, moaning happily at the feeling of your nails against his nape. The sun had set outside, leaving the two of you in warm lamp light, the amber auras setting the deep brown of his eyes ablaze as he gazed up at you. Once your breath returned he moved one hand over the side of your face and pulled you in for another, softer but still passionate kiss. You relaxed into him, moving your hands over his chest, feeling the taught muscle and pleasure heated skin.

“I want you to tell me what you like.” He muttered against your lips in the form of a lover's secret, “I want to make it up to you. I want to please you.”

You felt yourself start to drip at his words, so devoid of the ego you were so familiar with in other men. A fast learner, too, his hands were carefully tracking your reactions, already finding erogenous zones that you usually had to demonstrate, tongue matching pace with yours. Kissing him deeply, tongues tangling, saliva and moans losing their origins points in the mess of shared wetness, you rocked your hips against his. He jerked up, unwillingly, a long, throaty moan leaving his lips as he threw his head back against the back of the couch, his hands on your hips gripping tighter.

“Baby….fuck”, he was getting hard so fast just from kissing you, it was embarrassing.

“You feel so big, Choso.” You rocked against him more, grinding into his erection over and over.

He blushed, the bar on his face doing nothing to hide the deep red settling across his cheeks. Feeling emboldened by the effect you had on him, you pulled your shirt off, leaving you bare chested on top of him. He was awestruck at the sight of your nearly naked body, his shock only growing when you grabbed his hands and brought them up to your breasts,squeezing them through his hands.

“Touch me here, like this.” You showed him how you liked to be squeezed and groped, all while keeping up your gyration on his lap.

He followed your lead immediately, mouth watering at how your breasts moved in his hands as you moved. He wanted to put them in his mouth, he wanted you completely naked, his own clothes felt so stiff and tight now. Choso removed his hands from your chest in a flash to quickly remove his own shirt before putting his hands on you once again, groping and squeezing the mounds freely. You moaned both at the sight of him bare and at how well he was following your directions.

“Fuck Choso… you look so good.” You marveled at him through your heavy lashes.

He was so toned, so well cultivated. His body was like that of a swimmer or a rock climber, lean and muscled, clearly focusing on mobility and functional strength above vanity. Tattoos littered his body, classic things, sigils and birds and quotes you couldn't quite read. All in due time.

In a move surprising you he sat up, abdominals rippling, keeping one strong forearm around your waist to hold you firm against him and he brought one of your nipples into his mouth. Even the fatty flesh couldn't muffle the haughty moan that escaped him, nor could it hide the way his eyes rolled back in his head. Your hands pulled at his hair, bringing him as close as possible, letting loose mewls of pleasure at his sucking. His tongue piercing circled around your areola, teeth quickly following to bite lightly at the rising peak. His dark eyes, now almost entirely black from blown out pleasure, looked up at you. The pornographic display in front of you was enough to have you whimpering already, the feeling of him so solid and throbbing underneath your hips wasn't helping, or was it, you supposed it depends on the goal; Longevity or absolute pleasure. Choso moved his mouth over to your other breast, repeating the same routine of circling and biting and suckling, he was completely blissed out, barely registering anything beyond the taste of your skin and the weight of your body on his. When you pulled at his hair to get him to face you again, you had to pull harder than you expected to get his attention. When you finally did, his head tipped back dramatically, a drunken smile across his wet, swollen lips.

“Take your pants off,” you whimpered breathily, “please.”

You stood up in front of him, feeling a slight ache in your hip hinges from your previous position and quickly rid yourself of your pants. He did the same, removing his belt, and kicking his shoes off before pulling his jeans off and tossing them aside. You stood in front of each other, in only your panties, him in black boxer briefs, length straining against the fabric. Breathing hard, you took each other in, it was so simple, but so sexy to be just standing before each other nearly completely naked. Not touching, not distracted by embracing hands or mouths, just taking a moment to appreciate the unguarded form of one another.

He was so taken by you, the swell of your hips, the curved lines of your silhouette, scars and lines and tattoos adorning your skin in a completely unique and deeply personal pattern. He liked the panties you were wearing, he wanted to keep them, maybe you would let him. They were a dark purple mesh fabric, his favorite color. There was no way you could have known, but it felt like fate. Your neck was starting to show little bruises from his kisses earlier, soon they would be purple too, he couldn't wait to see. Finally, he stepped toward you, his strong hands finding yours, bringing them to his body just as you had earlier. Your hands followed down the lines of his body, the muscles so hard under your touch. He moaned at your touch, chills rocking through his body, he was so reactive for you, every twitch of your fingers being amplified through his body like an electric current.

“You want to stay out here, or do I get to see your bedroom?”

“I’m a little partial to riding you right here, what do you think?” you flirted up at him, pushing on his stomach lightly, he was practically drooling.

You had chosen his exact fantasy from earlier and once again he found himself thinking that it was impossible you could have known, but it had to be fate. He kissed your lips again, the fever from earlier returning as you pushed him back down onto the couch, following him closely to keep your lips connected. Before you could move to straddle him, he gripped your hips.

“Please. Wanna taste you first, please baby, please.” He begged. He sounded so good when he begged.

You weren't one to argue with someone asking so nicely, so you did as he asked, sitting where he had been earlier, loving the feeling of the warmth he had left behind embedded in the cushion. Choso moved between your legs, his hands sliding up your thighs and pulling your panties away from your aching sex. He couldn't stop himself from bringing the panties to his face and taking in your scent, he didn't care if it made him a pervert, he loved the smell of a good, wet pussy, and yours may be the best he had ever had. Your jaw dropped at the unabashed display, catching his eye as he exhaled luxuriously.

“Fuuuuck, can I keep these?” It was like he was high all over again, one hit of you knocking him on his heels more than your highest testing strain ever could.

You nodded slowly, too shocked to speak. You didn't even care that you liked that pair, they were comfortable and sexy, nothing could compare to the thought of Choso keeping a pair of your used panties for himself.

He set them on top of his pants on the floor, before resuming his migration across the sensitive skin of your inner legs. You could feel yourself dripping onto the couch, you didn't care, you were too turned on to care about anything except him. Lying on his stomach on your couch, he was finally face to face with your bare pussy. He could feel himself starting to rut into the couch cushion, aching cock desperate for relief. Finally, with one last cautious look up at you, Choso slid his fore and middle fingers between your lower lips, separating them slightly to look right at your weeping folds. Even the light brush of his fingertips separating you had you ready to arch your back, you were so wet, his long tongue swiped up your slit, and a strangled gasp ripped itself from your throat.

One hand flew to his hair, struggling to decide if you wanted to push him away or pull him in deeper, opting to just pull. Choso was completely lost within you, your taste, your smell, the feeling of how wet you had gotten already, he wanted to drink up everything you had. He moaned into your dripping pussy as you pulled his hair harder, loud squelching and slurping sounds filled the room alongside your gasping, frantic moans of curses garbled with his name.

“You taste so good, baby,” he complimented, his round tongue piercing flicking so deliciously against your clit as he spoke, “I knew you would. Fuck, you’re too good to me.”

You could barely hear him. Too fixated on rocking your hips against his face, trying desperately to amplify the pleasure he was giving you. Choso kissed your pussy with long, flat tongued laps, his piercing circling your clit in a delicious rhythm that had you wailing. You had never been so thankful to live alone, one of your hands left his hair so you could bite hard on your knuckles, a foolish attempt to stifle your moans. Wisps of his bangs fell in his face, blocking you from his eyeline, he attempted to blow the strands out of his way, needing to see you struggle to quiet yourself. You were putting on such a beautiful show for him, panting and moaning above him, showing him exactly how good he was making you feel, he didn't want to miss a second of it. Breaking away only momentarily to brush his hair away from his face, only to have them fall back in their place, Choso huffed in frustration, his hot, irritated breath sending tingles across your slippery folds. You looked down at him, feeling him pull away briefly to pull a black hair tie from one wrist and hand it to you. Your instructions were clear as he dove back in, once again devouring you; you pulled his hair into a small bun, tying it quickly and returning your hand to cover your mouth. His own hands were clasped around your thighs, bringing them into his ears and diving in even further.

The lower half of his face, from top of nose to under his jaw, was shimmering, he was losing all sense of himself. He wanted to die between your legs, he wanted your thighs to crush him, he wanted to drown in your cum, he wanted the last sound he ever heard to be your squeaking whimpers of his name. His cock was pulsing against your couch, swollen nearly to the point of pain, with every lap it was getting harder. He didn’t think he would ever stop, your hands in his hair, nails against his neck and shoulders, your smell in his nose, your taste on his tongue, he could have stayed there forever. It wasn't until you started to pull him away by his roots that he finally came up for air again.

You shuddered as you peeled Choso away from your pussy. A thin, glistening string of spit and your arousal joined his wet lips to your sex, it was so erotic. He was panting as well, eyes wild with pleasure, damp face, swollen lips, looking to you for why you would have deprived him of his meal.

“Please, Choso, please let me fuck you,” you begged.

He protested weakly, “But I want you to--”

“Please, baby. I need you inside so badly.” You pointed out, moving your hand over the side of his face.

He pressed his cheek into your palm and nodded, sighing hard trying to catch his breath. You pulled him up to you, he followed, crawling on his hands up to your lips. Your kisses were now wet after his pleasuring you, you could taste yourself at the deepest part of his mouth you could reach. Choso ground his erection into you, sliding his length across your slick pussy and panting into your mouth. Gathering all your strength back you sat up, moving to assume the position from before. In the movements, he had finally freed his aching cock, gripping it hard at the base as you climbed over his lap. You slotted your lips against his over and over, tongues tangling, hands moving over hot, prickled skin. You rocked your hips up and down your slit, drenching him and building your anticipation. Choso pressed his forehead against yours, you could feel the sweat of his skin and the sweat of yours combining in between your skin. He angled his now dripping cock right at your entrance, you hissed as you made your way down his length. Moans escaped both of you as your tight walls sucked him in, head still pressed together, his hand bruising your waist. It had become so intimate, he filled you so entirely, pushing hard against the barrier of your cervix. You started to grind against him, moving your hips up and down, whimpering pathetically, arching your back. Your hands settled on his shoulders and stomach as you rode him faster and faster.

“Fuck, yes, you feel so good. Thank you.” Choso’s eyes were locked on your bouncing breasts. He leaned forward and caught one of your puffy nipples in his mouth again, sucking hard.

The feeling of him so deep inside of you, your increased sensitivity from him eating you out, and now his hot mouth teething and pulling at your chest had you so close already. You were almost embarrassed, but you couldn't keep yourself from bouncing more and more, grinding right up against his pelvis. Your hands moved up the back of his neck, keeping his head buried in your breasts, he switched to suck on your other nipple, moaning against your hot skin. One of his big hands squeezed at the fat of your ass, he couldn't get enough of you; he wanted to keep his hands and his mouth full of you, his cock buried inside of you forever. Your moans rose in pitch quickly, the hair at the base of his cock rubbing right against your clit. You pulled away, arching into his hand on your lower back, and humping against him even faster.

“Cho-Fuck baby, I…” You mewl out.

“Cum, please cum for me, baby. Make a mess on me please, cum on my cock, pleasepleaseplease.” he babbled, holding your hips in a bruising vice and helping you to raise and lower yourself.

He planted his feet on the ground, thrusting up to meet you halfway. You were so tight and hot, he could feel your wetness dripping down his balls, he could taste your sweat on the backs of his lips. Your cries started becoming intense and your body was shuddering against him, you could barely string together any thoughts beyond your desire to cum. FInally it all became too much, the hot pleasure that had been building all bursting out from you at once.

“Choso! I-- I--I’m cumming!” You cried against him, his thrusts under you were relentless, not stopping even as your orgasm peaked and valleyed before him.

“Fuck baby, yes. More more, please, fuck please, im--,” Choso’s own orgasm ripped through his body with nearly no warning, finally slowing his thrust, opting to press as deep as he could and dropping his head back against the couch. He moaned your name scrambled with curses and his throaty raspy groans.

Coming down from your shared high, Choso thrust up into you a few more times, shuttering at the feeling of spilling long spurts of cum inside of your hot, wet walls. You stilled your motions completely, hips aching, sweat dripping down your body, you pressed your head against his again, trying to catch your breath as quickly as possible. Choso kissed your jaw, your neck, your lips, your cheek, your temple, anywhere his lips could reach, sturdy hands massaging your hips and ass as he did. You smiled down at him, his face was tinted pink, his eyes were wet and full, he looked so fucked out, and so beautiful. The bun you had styled for him was barely hanging on,his bangs now stuck to his damp forehead. You dipped your head down and kissed him, the kiss now lazy but just as wet. Slippery mouths joining again and again as he rubbed your back. Once you felt you could move again, you moved off of his lap, his softening cock sliding out of you and flopping against his stomach. He panted in recovery once you had taken your place on the couch next to him, he pulled your legs into his lap, wanting to keep as good a hold on you as he could while still inside this bubble of intimacy you had created. He moved the back of his knuckles up and down your shin, turning his face toward you and gazing at you.

“That was…” He started, trailing off as words failed him once again.

You nodded blissfully, reaching over to grab his hand. He kissed the back of your hand.

“You’re….” this time he found his finishing words, “wow.”

You chuckled, “You too. I’m really glad you came over.”

“Me too.” he laughed a bit as well, gesturing to the half joint on the table, “You’re a bad influence on me.”

“I think you liked it.” you sat up taking the joint between your fingers and taking a lighter from the table.

You held the pink joint in between your lips, lighting it and puffing once before passing it over to Choso. He accepted and took a hit, then another, exhaling happily.

“I did. I do.” he answered finally.

You took the joint back, sitting up to his eye level as you puffed.

“I hope you don't think I’ll be giving you a discount because of this, I’m not that kind of dealer.” you joked.

A flirtatious smirk pulled at his lips, “If you had let me finish making you cum in my mouth, I think I could change your mind.”

You rolled your eyes, already feeling your pussy dampen and your nipples harden at his candor. He slid one arm around you, pulling you close and kissing your smoke warmed lips.

“Could I, maybe, come over again?” he asked against your lips, “Without needing to apologize to you for making a total ass of myself?”

Your heart squeezed, you had not yet started to worry that this was a one and done, his expert work leaving you already craving more. Everything that had happened was so unexpected, you started the day still seething from the first impression, but he had melted your icy demeanor instantly. You did want to see Choso again, you wanted him to make you feel like that again, you wanted to spoil him the way he had spoiled you. You wanted a chance to show him how good he had made you feel, and now you had the chance. You knew his situation, you knew yours, it was incredibly likely that this would be temporary, but even one more chance to share a night with him was enough for now.

I hope you guys enjoyed! As always, i did! Remember to use drugs responsibly and not give in to peer pressure, unless you think itll make people like you, then succumb. (im joking). alright bye! -- <3 Doodle

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #choso x reader #choso kamo #kamo choso #choso smut #stoner choso #jjk fic #jjk x reader #jjk smut #jjk choso #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fanfic #jujutsu kaisen x reader #choso x female reader #choso kamo smut #fanfic #smut #18+ only #18+ content #sub choso

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 3: Hermes, God Of Thieves]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 4.5k

Tagging: @arcielee @huramuna @glasscandlegrenades @gemmagirlss1 @humanpurposes @mariahossain @marvelescvpe @darkenchantress @aemondssapphirebussy @haslysl @bearwithegg @beautifulsweetschaos @travelingmypassion @althea-tavalas @chucklefak @serving-targaryen-realness @chaoticallywriting @moonfllowerr @rafeism @burningcoffeetimetravel-fics @herfantasyworldd @mangosmootji @sunnysideaeggs

💜 All of my writing can be found HERE! 💜

They say it’s the most dangerous job in Vietnam. That’s why I wanted to do it.

Chinooks transport men and equipment, Cobras are gunships, Jolly Green Giants are used in search-and-rescue missions. But the Loach—Light Observation Helicopter—is a scout. We have to fly low enough to spot fresh footprints in mud, glints of sunlit metal, blooms of firelight from smoldering cigarettes in the primordial maze of the jungle. And when you go looking for the enemy, sometimes that’s exactly who you find. U.S. Army regulations decree that each Loach must be inspected after 300 hours of flight time, but they rarely make it that long. I’ve been shot down twice already. You roll out of the wreckage, grab your buddies, and book it out of the area before the Vietcong kill you, or worse: drag you back to the Hanoi Hilton so you can die slow.

Currently we’re just north of Pleiku, coasting close enough to the treetops that I could reach out and touch them. I’m in the back seat with my M16, no door between me and the outside world, my hair tied back with a green bandana, the wind hot and sticky. It’s so fucking humid here. Why can’t the communists be trying to take over Malta or Sweden or Monterey Bay, California?

It was the old men who suggested I might be of greatest service to the family by enlisting. I was 25, newly graduated from Columbia Law—a family tradition—and dreading the desk job that awaited me at the Department of Justice. Some people are born to type their lives away in some leather-upholstered office with a view of Pennsylvania Avenue, but not me, and I know this like I know the sun or the stars, ancient truths that can never be changed. And so when Otto and Viserys sat me down—my father had only had one stroke by that point, and was still relatively involved in the day-to-day minutia of putting a Targaryen in the White House—and said Aemond having a brother in Vietnam would make him more relatable, more sympathetic, more noble, not an observer to the carnage of the war but a fellow victim of it…I told them I’d go.

Everyone needs a project. If you don’t have something to distract you from the futility of human existence, it’ll break you in half. I have the Loach. Otto and Viserys, both immigrants ineligible to serve as president of the United States, have their shared ambition of getting their bloodlines in the Oval Office. Aemond has his legacy. My mother has her children, and Criston has my mother. Helaena has her gardens, her bugs, quiet gentle things that she tends with her own thorn-pricked hands. Aegon doesn’t have a project, he never really has, and it’s driven him to the cliff’s edge of insanity. See what I mean?

Anyway, let me tell you something about Vietnam. The Army gives us all the steak, beer, and cigarettes we can handle, but I’d kill for a lemon-lime Mr. Misty—

“Daeron, get down!” the guy to my left screams over the noise of the rotors. His name is Richie Swindell, and he’s from Omaha, Nebraska, and now he’s plummeting out of the helicopter as bullets riddle his chest. I duck low and cover my head as we spiral sideways into the trees, snapping branches, shredding leaves like confetti. I can hear the pilot yelling something, but I can’t tell what. When we hit the earth, the lightweight aluminum skin of the Loach does exactly what it’s supposed to, crumpling to absorb the shock of the collision and reduce trauma to us mortals inside. I scramble out of the rubble on my hands and knees and go to check on the pilot, but it’s too late. He’s already being hauled out by the Vietcong and gets a bullet to the brain. I reach back into the ruins of the Loach to grab my M16, but there are hands around my ankles yanking me out. And now I’m next, and there’s nowhere left to run, and I’m hoping Criston will be there to hold my mother when she gets the Western Union telegram.

One of the soldiers shouts and stops the others, shoving them aside to get a better look at me. With the barrel of his AK-47, supplied by either China or the Russians, he prods at the patch displaying my last name: Targaryen. His compatriots don’t seem impressed. Again, he batters my nametag, speaking to them in Vietnamese.

He knows who I am, I realize. He knows Aemond is running for president.

Now there is a hell of a lot of excitement. The men are talking rapidly amongst themselves, marveling at me, poking and examining me. Then two of them grab me by the arms. I look to the soldier who knows English, at least enough of it to read those nine fated letters. He smiles at me, not like a friend. Like a wolf baring its teeth.

He says: “It is okay, Targaryen boy. We just have some questions for you.”

Guess I’ll be checking into the Hanoi Hilton after all.

~~~~~~~~~~

You wake up to Aegon strumming an acoustic guitar and singing Johnny Cash. The guitar must be new. The one he left at Asteria is plain maple wood and covered in stickers; this unfamiliar instrument is a vivid, Caribbean blue and has Gibson written across the headstock.

“I hear the train a-comin’, it’s rolling ‘round the bend

And I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when

I’m stuck in Folsom Prison, and time keeps draggin’ on…”

“Let me die. I’m ready to go.”

Aegon laughs, setting his new guitar aside.

“Is Ari okay?”

“Yeah, he’s doing great. And I got the stuff you asked for.”

Sure enough, there are three roomy sundresses hanging from the coatrack—you wanted to have options in case you had trouble finding one that fit correctly, though you gave Aegon a general neighborhood for sizes—as well as an array of cosmetics on the nightstand, including a bottle of shimmering champagne-colored nail polish. “I’m really impressed. You barely forgot anything. Though I will look odd with blush but no foundation.”

“Ohhhhh. Fuck.”

“And this isn’t human shampoo. It’s for dogs. That’s why it has a mastiff on the label.”

“I thought it looked like you,” Aegon says, smirking mischievously.

“Well, thanks for trying.”

“And I found this at the gift shop.” He tosses a card at you like a frisbee. You open the envelope to see a cartoon cow on the front, black and white and wearing a huge copper bell and a party hat. Inside is printed: May your graduation be legenDAIRY! Aegon has crossed it out and written instead I thought this was blank…congrats on the new calf! followed by his illegible scribble of a signature.

“A cow,” you say, smiling despite yourself. “Because I’m Io.”

“You’ve got about a million of those pouring in from all over the country. Congratulations cards, get well soon cards, we really hope your husband gets elected so we aren’t consumed by nuclear Armageddon cards. And then Richard Nixon sent a pipe bomb.”

You set Aegon’s card on your nightstand, half-open so it will stay standing upright. Then you drink the apple juice from the tray the nurses left for you. “Aemond’s not here yet?”

“Uh, no, not yet,” Aegon says vaguely, kicking his feet up on the ottoman. He’s been shopping for himself too. He’s wearing a denim jacket over a black The Kinks t-shirt, ripped jeans, moccasins. He uses the remote to turn on the television: The Dating Game. “So, what did you study in college? You went to Manhattanville, right?”

You chuckle, shaking your head. “You really don’t listen when I talk, do you?”

“I try not to.”

“Yes, I went to Manhattanville. And I studied math.”

“No way. You didn’t major in math.”

“Women can’t do math?” you tease. “That’s sexist.”

“I didn’t say women can’t do math. I’m saying there’s no way your parents sent you to a housewife factory like Manhattanville College of the Sacred Heart to get a math degree.”

“They didn’t, which is why my bachelor’s is in math education. So half-math, half-kid stuff. Makes it a little more…domestic.”

“Cool. Teach me math.”

“What, really?”

“Yeah. Really.” He digs around in the pockets of his jeans until he finds a receipt, then locates a pen in the nightstand drawer. He hands both to you and then stands so he can watch over your shoulder as you work. You can smell him: cigarette smoke, rum, the cool grey rain that is falling outside. It drips off his hair, carelessly slicked back from his face.

“What’s something you don’t know how to do?” you ask, expecting to get an answer like exponents or calculating the volume of a pyramid.

“Uh. Long division.”

You raise your eyebrows. “Going all the way back to 4th grade. Alright then.” You begin writing. “So let’s take a large number—this year, 1968—and divide it by…hm…how many kids you have. So five.”

Aegon whistles. “Five kids. Goddamn.”

“Yes, and you probably couldn’t name them, but there are indeed five. Trust me, I’ve counted.”

“Okay, this is the part I don’t get. Five goes into 19 almost four times. But there’s no way to say almost four.”

“There certainly is not. Five goes into 19 three times, so we put a three up top and then subtract 15 from 19. We get four, drop down the six from 1968, and now we’re dividing 46 by five.”

“Nine.”

“Right. Five times nine is 45. So the nine goes up top and we subtract 45 from 46.”

“45 is basically 46. Let’s call it a day. Close enough.”

“No,” you insist. “We get one, then drop down the eight from 1968, which makes 18.”

“And five goes into 18 three times.”

“Where’s the three go?”

“Up top,” Aegon says, observing fixedly.

“And then we subtract…”

“15 from 18, which is three. So the answer is 393.3.”

“Wrong. Loser.”

“What! How am I wrong?!”

“You don’t just put the three after the decimal,” you say. “You drop down a zero—”

“A zero?! Where the fuck did a zero come from?”

“From the fact that 1968 is a whole number, so it’s actually 1968.0.”

“Oh.” Aegon blinks a few times. “Gotcha.”

“Add the zero after the three to get 30—”

“And 30 divided by five is six. So the answer is 393.6.”

“I am so proud. You are officially as smart as an average nine-year-old.”

He takes the receipt from you and studies it. “This was super enlightening.”

“You want to try calculus now?”

He cackles and sinks back into his plush salmon pink armchair, his miniature dominion in your hospital room kingdom. “You like teaching?”

“I love it,” you admit. “I had to do a semester of student teaching the spring before I graduated, and at first I was kind of petrified. But the kids are so hilarious and interesting and full of excitement about everything, and they’re sweet in totally unexpected ways. They’d chatter all through a lesson and make me want to jump out a five-story window, and then bring me some of their Easter candy. That’s when I realized they weren’t trying to torture me. They’re just kids.”

Aegon is meditative. “Yeah, kids are fun.”

“I wasn’t aware you had much interest in them.”

“No, I do.” And something about the way he says it makes you feel bad for taking the shot. He runs his fingers through his hair, perhaps debating how much he wants to share. “You know Viserys made us all do these little missions after college so we could learn about the real world, right?”

“Right.” Daeron spent his on lobster boats up in Maine, Helaena learned horticulture in France, Aemond helped register voters in Mississippi and Alabama. You can’t recall ever hearing about Aegon’s.

“I got sent to Yuma, Arizona to teach on the reservation there. When I stepped off the bus, I thought it was hell on earth. And then when my time was up I didn’t want to leave.”

“What did you teach?” And then you add: “Hopefully not math.”

“No, definitely not math,” he says, smiling but distant, remembering. “English. Books, poems, all that. But my favorite thing to do was take a song and break it down line by line, really get them curious about what the author was thinking. And then of course we’d all sing it together. I’d play guitar, they’d run around jumping on the furniture, it was a good time.”

“But you couldn’t stay.”

“No,” he sighs. “I had to come back here so I could get dragged kicking and screaming through law school and then married off.”

“And elected mayor of Trenton,” you say, trying to make him laugh. It works.

“Oh God, we are not talking about that. Most miserable two years of my life.”

“So far.”

“Yeah. If Aemond wins and makes me the attorney general, that might be worse.”

“Knock knock!” comes a cheerful trill from the doorway, and then Alicent and Mimi rush in. They descend upon your hospital bed, cooing and soothing, squeezing your hands and trying to smooth your untamed hair.

“What did it feel like?” Mimi is morbidly fascinated, swaying a little, eyes bleary with gin. “When they were digging around in there?”

“Well, obviously she was sedated, hon,” Aegon says, a bit impatiently. He and Mimi share a nod in greeting, no warmth, no depth. You wonder what it must be like for someone you spent so much time tangled up with to become a stranger.

“Oh, darling, I barely recognize you!” Alicent says. “You poor thing, you must be in such awful pain. I’ve never seen you like this before. Your face, your hair…”

Aegon gives her a quick, disapproving look and then lights a cigarette of the traditional variety. He puffs on it as he gazes at the window, like he’s counting the raindrops on the glass.

“I’m feeling a lot better now,” you assure Alicent.

Her eyes flick down to your belly, still swollen beneath your blankets. “Will it scar terribly, do you think?”

You shrug; you haven’t thought much about that part yet. “It’s a battle scar. Aemond gets them in the real world, I get them in here. Same war, different arenas.” You peek out into the hallway. “Is Aemond…is he with you…?”

“He wanted to be,” Alicent says, like it’s a consolation. “But, Washington, you know…the primary there is so close. So, so close. He kept saying that he and Humphrey were neck and neck, and they still are, I believe. Every vote counts, and he’s campaigning all over the Puget Sound.”

“He’s still in Washington?” Your voice is flat with disbelief, with disapproval.

“He wishes he could be here with you and the baby,” Alicent insists, stroking your hair. “I’m sure he’ll fly back as soon as he’s able. But he’s thinking of you so, so much. That’s why he let me and Mimi leave this morning.”

“Right,” you reply numbly. And then you remember what you’re supposed to say. “The election is important. It affects everyone, our son included. For the greater good, personal sacrifices are necessary.”

“We saw him,” Alicent tells you, radiant with joy. “Aristos Apollo.”

“So precious,” Mimi says. “But so small! And trapped in that hideous machine! We could only see him through those little round windows.”

Aegon casts her a violent glare. You are alarmed. “He’s not in an incubator?”

“They have him in a…what was it called, Mimi?” Alicent asks. Mimi has nothing useful to contribute. “A hyperbaric chamber, I think. To help him get more oxygen.”

“But he’s fine,” Aegon says firmly, giving his wife and mother a warning. “Didn’t the doctor say it was a precaution?”

“He did, he did,” Alicent promises you. “Yes, just a precaution, that’s what we were told. The doctor has been trying to reach Aemond, apparently, but since he landed in Washington, he’s never in one place for long…”

“We should buy gifts for the baby,” Mimi says excitedly. “Adorable hats and shirts and trousers. Although even the tiniest clothes might be too big for him right now.”

“Yes, gifts! We must shop for gifts. Oh, it’s all been such a whirlwind. We hurried off the plane to come straight here, love,” Alicent tells you. “Can Mimi and I get you something for dinner?”

“Sure, sure.” You are distracted, still thinking of Ari. “Anything is fine. Wherever you end up.”

“Would you like me to bring a priest to pray with you? Saint Nicholas Church is right around the corner.”

You smile. “That’s very kind, but I think I’d prefer some books.”

“Baby clothes, dinner, and books. We can do that. Can’t we, Mimi?”

“We absolutely can,” Mimi agrees with tipsy, girlish enthusiasm.

As an afterthought, Alicent says: “Aegon, have you been here all this time? You must be exhausted. We’re going to book a suite at the Plaza, there will be plenty of room for you too. We can drop you off there on our way to go shopping, if you’d like.”

“I’ll stay,” he says softly, watching the rain again.

Alicent’s brow furrows; her dark doe-like eyes are puzzled. “Alright, dear.” Then she and Mimi disappear into the hall.

“Is he really okay?” you ask Aegon when they’re gone.

“Yes. That’s exactly what the doctor told me, just a precaution. I wouldn’t lie to you.”

“Aegon,” you say, and don’t continue until he meets your eyes. “Why are you still here?”

He lights a fresh cigarette. “I don’t think you should be alone.”

“I’m not alone anymore. Alicent visits me, Mimi visits me.”

“Yeah, but you feel like you have to put on a show for them. Play the perfect Targaryen wife with all that stoic, dignified, unshakable faith. You hate me, so there isn’t as much pressure.”

“I don’t hate you, Aegon.”

“Yes you do. You always have. You don’t have to be polite about it.”

“Well…I have valid reasons to hate you.”

He smiles, exhaling smoke. “Right.”

“And you hate me too.”

Now he shrugs, avoiding your gaze. “Everybody worships you, everybody thinks I’m a waste of chromosomes, is it really that hard to psychoanalyze?”

“No one worships me. They worship Aemond.”

“But you’re a package deal. Jack and Jackie, Franklin and Eleanor.”

You trace the lines in your palm with a fingertip, not knowing what to say. You’re so close to Aemond, so inseparable, and yet so vastly far. “Will you wheel me downstairs to see Ari after dinner?” It’s best to go at night when there are less staff around to try to stop you.

“Sure. You want a Mr. Misty?”

“Yeah. Lemon-lime.” That’s what he brought you last time, and it wasn’t bad for a cardboard cup of florescent green sugar water.

“Got it,” Aegon says, and leaves you alone.

You look at the phone on your nightstand. You’ve tried to call Aemond to no avail, though you spoke to Criston twice; on both occasions he said Aemond was in the middle of an interview. It’s understandable that you would have difficulty getting ahold of your husband while he’s off campaigning, leaping from town to town like an electric current. There’s nothing unusual about it at all. But Aemond could call you anytime he likes. You haven’t moved; he knows exactly where you are.

You keep staring at the phone. It doesn’t ring.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s night again, and you swim up from morphine-soft dreams into your hospital room, dark except for the flashing color of the television, low volume, NBC news. Aegon is curled up in the chair he’s claimed, snoring and half-covered with a cheap, pale blue hospital blanket. And it’s a strange feeling—a foreign language, a new religion—to realize that you’re relieved to see he’s still here, that there’s a comfort in it, a safety.

Suddenly, Aemond is on the television screen. You sit up in bed as gingerly as you can, leaning in, listening close. He’s rarely looked better: blue suit, prosthetic eye, rested and measured and sharp. He’s giving a speech at the Hotel Sorrento in Seattle, three hours behind the time you’re living in on the East Coast. Flanking him on the stage are Criston, Otto, Helaena, Fosco, the eight charming children. Five-year-old Cosmo keeps waving at the camera.

“Right now, my wife and newborn son are at Mount Sinai Hospital in New York City,” Aemond says, beaming, and the audience whistles and cheers. You should smile, but you can’t. He’s not supposed to be there. He’s supposed to be on his way home. “But tonight I’m here with all of you, fighting with everything I’m made of to win the great state of Washington. And I won’t leave until the job is done, because I know the greatest act of devotion that any of us can show our children is to ensure they grow up in a better America than the one we find ourselves in today…”

You look over at Aegon and see that his glassy eyes are open, watching the television just like you are. You don’t know how long he’s been awake. The two of you exchange a glance, and there is a silent, shared recognition of what won’t be said. You can’t criticize your husband. Aegon isn’t going to kick you while you’re down. You are grateful for this. It is a conviction he has only recently acquired.

Aegon pulls his blanket up to his chin and rolls over, turning away from you. You close your eyes and dream of being a child back in Tarpon Springs, mesmerized as you watch Greek sponge divers emerge from the bubbling depths in their suits of rubber armor.

~~~~~~~~~~

It’s the afternoon of the 13th. The Washington State Democratic Convention is being held tonight, and so win or lose Aemond will be walking into Mount Sinai Hospital tomorrow. He has to, he doesn’t have a choice. He’ll have no excuse to be anywhere else, and journalists will be swarming at the entranceway like bull sharks in the Gulf of Mexico.

It’s raining again. You’re reading one of the books that Alicent brought you, Dr. Spock’s Baby and Child Care. You had been meaning to get a copy before you were consumed by Aemond’s campaign and then his near-assassination, his maiming, his fleeting brush with oblivion. Aegon is cross-legged in the salmon pink armchair and plucking lazily at his guitar, singing so low no one outside the room would be able to hear him. It’s a Rolling Stones song, slow and mournful.

“You don’t know what’s going on

You’ve been away for far too long

You can’t come back and think you are still mine.”

As you flip a page and raindrops patter gently against the window, you find yourself thinking how easy this is, your hair undone and your feet bare, no photos to take or lines to remember, no practiced smiles, no overwrought itineraries, only compassion that is quiet and small and real.

“Well, baby, baby, baby, you’re out of time

I said, baby, baby, baby, you’re out of time…”

Aegon abruptly stops playing, cutting off with a twang. You look up at him. He’s gazing back with eyes that are filling up his face, glistening with horror. You turn to find out what he’s seen. There’s a doctor standing in the doorway, but he’s not alone. There’s a Greek Orthodox priest with him.

“Mrs. Targaryen,” the doctor begins, then glances to the priest. The holy man—black robes, gold chains, clasping a komboskini like the one Aemond keeps in a box on his writing desk at Asteria, stained with his own blood—gives an encouraging nod. “We’ve tried to reach your husband. We’ve called his hotel in Tacoma several times, but the senator must be out campaigning, and…” Again, he looks to the priest. Aegon is setting his guitar on the floor, covering his mouth with his hands.

Ari. Too early, too fragile, too defenseless in a world full of wolves.

Your words come out in a whisper. “He’s gone, isn’t he?”

“We must remember, child,” the priest tells you, vague patronizing pity. “That the Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away, but what is lost to us in this life is never truly gone. Those we love wait for us on the other side in paradise—”

“Please leave. I don’t want to talk to a priest. I don’t want to talk to anyone.”

I just gave birth to him. I just started to believe he was mine.

The doctor begins: “Ma’am, I’m so sorry to have to deliver this news—”

“I don’t want to talk to anyone, I want to be alone. So please leave,” you beg, your voice breaking. “I want to be alone. Please leave me alone.”

The doctor looks to Aegon. A man’s permission is sought. “Go,” Aegon manages, raspy and strangled, and the doctor obeys.

“God bless you and your husband, Mrs. Targaryen,” the priest says as he departs with a swift bow. You can’t reply. You’re biting back sobs as the tears begin to slither down your cheeks, scalding and furious, not just grief but the bottomless rage of Nemesis.

Aegon is watching you, not knowing what to do, not knowing what you need.

Aemond would want you to be stoic. Aemond would want you to have faith, forbearance, grace. “It is God’s will.”

“Hey.” Aegon reaches across the space between you, grabs your hand, holds it so tightly your bones ache. Still, you wouldn’t want him to let go. “You’re allowed to be fucked up about this. I am too.���

When your eyes drift to him, they are glaring and heartsick and poisonous. “Where’s Aemond?” Why isn’t he here?

Aegon sighs deeply and picks up the phone with his free hand. He spins the rotary dial with his index finger and then holds the handset to his ear. He waits as it rings. “Pantages Theater, Tacoma, Washington,” he tells the operator. A minute or more crawls by. “I need to speak to Senator Targaryen immediately. Yes, I know there’s a convention underway there, that’s why I’m calling you. Go get him.” More minutes, eternal, terrible beyond description. “What do you mean you can’t find him?!” Aegon snaps. “Okay, give me someone else. Anyone travelling with him. Criston Cole, Fosco Viviani, Otto Hightower, Helaena Targaryen. Hurry up. Let’s go.”

Outside the rain grows heavy and loud; it falls in sheets against the misty windows. In the distance, thunder growls.

“Hi, Criston, it’s me. He needs to come home now. Right now.”

Aegon closes his eyes. Criston must be arguing with him.

“No, you don’t understand,” Aegon says, forcing the words to leave his lips and ride the wires to the West Coast, to where the sun sets, to where the future is dawning. He’s still holding your hand. “Aemond doesn’t have a son anymore.”

#aegon ii targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen ii #aegon ii #aegon targaryen x reader #aegon x reader #aegon ii x y/n #aegon ii x you #aegon ii targaryen x reader #aegon ii x reader #aegon targaryen ii x you #aegon targaryen x you

[sunnysidevans]

If You Only Knew - J.Seresin

Synopsis: Everyone has a highschool sweetheart, Jake Seresin had his Top Gun sweetheart, the woman he was gonna marry. A night of anger pushes the two of you apart. If you only knew Jake just wanted three things, love, a family and you.

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Mitchell!Reader // Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Mitchell!Reader (plationic)

Warnings: 18+ , angst, mentions of death,mentions of miscarriage, mentions of violence, mentions of depression , soft Bradley & eventually soft Jake, fluff. Top gun spoilers(kinda).

authors notes: I just want to say, please read the warnings for this fic as there are mentions of things that could possibly be triggering. I also just hope everyone enjoys this as I have put alot into this fic. Happy Reading.

italics are flashbacks. - bold are text messages.

Friday night.

The day where everyone reflects on the week and try to forget about it. The Hard Deck swarmed with people wanting to unwind from their week whether it was good, bad or ugly. Friday nights also meant the bar swarmed with Naval Aviators.

They followed one another easily, it filled quickly. By the time you clocked in for your shift, the bar was now filled with all khakis. “Get your butt over here!” Penny yells with a grin, serving the man in front of her with a kind smile.

“Comin I’m comin!” you chuckle, pushing behind the bar with a smile. Turning in your spot, stopping at the man smiling at you.

“Dad?” he laughs, looking you over.

“Don’t look so surprised to see your father” he smirks, watching the smile that makes it's way onto your face. Turning back around, you reach down and grab a glass, filling it with his usual.

“I thought you were in the desert” you say, watching the foam in the glass. Setting down infront of him, he shrugs.

“Top gun calls, I answer” smirking with a shake of your head. “Uncle Ice calls, you answer” you chuckle as he nods. He watches Penny move around the bar. “Say something would you,” you laugh watching as he rolls his eyes, Penny making her way over to him. As the door continued opening with Aviators. None of them meant a thing.

As the two of them flirted back and forth, you sighed. Aviators always flirted, sending winks your way and extra tips to go the extra mile. None of them were him. Two years of you denying winks and throwing away napkins with phone numbers.

You hated that you let yourself fall under his spell. It was easy to, he was blonde, green eyed and smooth talking. You tried to fault yourself as it was something you grew up around. It would be obvious for you to go out with one, almost marry him.

“(Y/N)” looking up at the sound of your name, smiling over your shoulder at your father. Moving to stand beside Penny, she smirks. “Get him another beer would ya” she sends him a wink, walking to the other side of the bar. You smile, taking his glass. “You look lost” he says, watching your face as you shrug. “I feel lost,” you say, smiling at him and setting the glass in front of him.

“You saved yourself as your mother would say, never marry an aviator” you shrug. “But Aunt Carol and Uncle Goose were happy” he sighs, nodding. “I know, you had a better role model in them than us” he sighs, resting his hand on top of yours.

“It’s okay to be upset, but I also want you to know, it’s okay to move on” he nods. What your father wasn't saying was he knew that he was gonna be strolling in the door and your life anytime now. That he was also called back to Top Gun, along with your best friend. Looking up at the sound of the door opening, your breath catches in your throat.

Bradley Bradshaw stood in all his glory standing at the door aviators resting on his nose with the Hawaiian shirt loose on his body. “One second dad” you send him a smile, moving around the bar.

“Bradley!” he looks over at the sound of his name, a smile making its way on his face. 

“Hey you” you're running to him, colliding with his body as he catches you. “Oh my god” you whisper, more to yourself than him as he grins. Bradley Bradshaw was the one man you could count on, minus your father.

“I missed you so much" you are hugging him tighter as he laughs. “I missed you too Dove” he squeezes your arms, pulling apart from you. “Wait” you say looking up at him. “Are you back at Top Gun?” you ask, hands resting on his arms. He nods, smiling at you. “I got called back just a few hours ago” he says.

There was never romantic feelings between the two of you. Just sibling love, you spent all your summers at the Bradshaw home while Goose and your father were on deployments.

“You are staying with me, no ifs ands or buts" you say with a smile. He laughs, nodding. “Okay, I’ll be over in a few hours'" you nod, looking him over. “Let me get you a beer'' He follows you to the bar, avoiding eye contact with your father completely. You never knew what happened between the two of them but chose to never intervene.

“A beer for you Lieutenant” you smile, setting the beer infront of him. “Go have fun” you shoo him off towards his friends. “Bradshaw, Is that you?” the female voice yells as you smile.

“Go” you encourage him. You missed the rest of the group coming in. You look over at your dad with a sad smile. His focus is back on Penny, who is smirking at him. Within seconds the bell is ringing and the bar is full of cheers. “Oh god” you laugh, looking at Penny and then back at him. “So, did you disrespect the Navy or put your phone” you look down at the phone in front of him “on the bar”.

He shakes his head with a smile, sipping from the beer he had in front of him quietly. Moving around the bar, you handed drinks out as quickly as they came once the bell rang, everyone came for refills.

“Penny my dear, I’ll have four more on the old timer”

Your blood ran cold. You knew that voice instantly. You kept your back turned, head down and out of his eyesight. “Sure Hangman” she smiles grabbing the four beers. She sees the tension in your shoulders choosing to ignore it as she sets the beers in front of him. “Thanks pops” he winks.

Jake Seresin knew exactly what he was doing. It was almost three years ago they sat at the same bar discussing the ring that sat against his chest.

“You want to marry my daughter?” Maverick asks, looking at the blonde aviator beside him. “I do” he nods his hands around his beer bottle, eyes focused on the condensation as it rolled down onto his palms. “Why?” he asks, watching the man's shoulders slouch.

“She’s the only woman who’s-who’s put up with my shit” he chuckles, looking over at him. Maverick smiles, “because she’s had to put up with mine for so long, she understands” he nods, reaching over to give his shoulder a squeeze.

“You love her?” Jake nods eagerly, looking over at the man beside him. “I love her so much sir” his voice is soft but your father hears him loud and clear. “Okay, then you can marry her” Jake can’t help the smile that makes its way to his lips. “Really?” Maverick laughs, “Really”. 

“Penny, I-I’ll be back” your voice is soft, tossing the towel on to the bar. Pushing through the sea of people and through the kitchen doors. Bradley watches from his side of the bar, furrowing his brows.

“I’ll be right back” he cuts Phoenix off as he sets his pool stick in Bob’s hands. “Dove?” his voice is soft when he pushes through the doors, looking around the kitchen. “Bradley you can not be back here” your voice is soft, strained. He hears you sniffle.

Jake nods in Mavericks direction as a silent thank you, the two may not like the other but he was raised to be respectful. He makes his way back to his friends, Coyote notices his shift. “What is it?” he asks his best friend, taking the beer from his awaiting hands.

“Maverick is at the bar, bought our beers” he says, sipping his drink. “Like as in (Y/N)’s father?” he inquires, Jake nods. “Is she here?” Coyote asks, watching his best friend. “I think so, she loves this place”  he says over the rim of his beer.

“Dove” Bradley whispers, looking down at you with his brown puppy dog eyes. “Why are you crying?” he asks, hands resting on your arms as he stands in front of you. Holding back another round of tears, you squeeze his arm gently.

“It’s nothing,” he shakes his head. “I saw the way your body reacted and the way you can’t even talk to me without crying” he reaches up, catching the stream of tears with his thumb. “It’s Hangman, what is he doing here?” you whisper, looking up at him. He nods, his mind going back to the last two years.

“I know, I swear I had no idea he would be here” you nod, looking at your best friend. He pulls you into his chest, giving your body an additional squeeze. 

“Overboard, Overboard!” the bar crowd yelled, pulling you from Bradley’s arms. "Oh god” you sigh, pushing out the swinging kitchen doors. Jake hooks one arm under Mavericks armpits, Javy on the other. Watching the two of them with your hands on your hips and a shake of your head.

“Jake Seresin, get your hands off my father!” you yell over the chants.

It took a lot to strike fear in Jake Seresin but there were two people in the world who can make the hairs on his neck stand. His mother and you. 

He turns around at the sound of your voice, arm dropping from Maverick's arm, “You too Javy,”. Making your way to the bar, looking at your dad. “Go home please” you whisper, giving his shoulder a reassuring squeeze. He nods, standing slowly.

“Come back and pay Penny tomorrow” you say as he is walking out the front door. Turning around, you face both men who stare at you dumbfounded. “Hi” Javy speaks first, looking at you with a side smile.

You had to admit, he was the nicer one of the pair. “Hi Javy'' you nod, sending him a soft smile. “What are you still doing here?” Jake asks, looking you over. You looked just as beautiful as you did when he left. “I work here dipshit” you look over at him, hands on your hips.

He nods, watching your face. “I-I expected you move on, somewhere far from Fightertown" he says. Javy takes that as his que to leave and makes his way back to the pool tables. “It’s nice to see you,” Jake says, looking at you with a smile. “I want to say the same Jake, I do”. He nods slowly, watching you. “Is it not?” he asks as he leans against the bar, you sigh. “No, it hurts me more to see you than it does to wish you weren’t here” you say, turning back to the bar with Penny.

The bar had finally cleared out , the last gentleman paying the last of his hefty bill. It left you and Penny in the empty bar. You tried to tell her you could close all on your own but she insisted. “Was it weird seeing him?” you ask, looking at her over your shoulder.

She has her back to you as she stacks chairs onto tables. “You know how I feel about your father (y/n)” you nod, biting your lip.

“I know, I just got a little worried I guess” you admit, setting the glass down and moving onto the next. “Why?” hands on her hips, she turns to face you. “I thought if seeing my dad again you’d let me go” you shrug, back still to her.

“Oh my gosh (y/n)” she’s moving to stand infront of you. “I love you and I love having you here so no, I’d never let my feelings for your dad dictate that” you nod, sending her a sad smile.

Her mother instincts kick in then, looking over your face. Still tear stained from the tears you tried so hard to hide from her. “What happened tonight?” she whispers, looking over your face.

“Jake Seresin happened” she furrows her brows, thinking back to the night. “Hangman is my ex-fiance” you say, looking back down at the glass, shining the same spot over and over. “What?” she asks, looking at you with wide eyes. “Jake  and I were engaged about two years ago” her brain thinks back, nodding.

“I remember, he went overseas right?” you nod.

“I mean there was of course more to it but that was our breaking point” you say. “Seeing him brought back all those things again” you say, biting back the tears that made their way into your lash line. “Hey” she reaches over, hand resting on yours.

“If fate wanted it this way, then fate wanted it to be this way” she grins, giving your hand a squeeze. “I can’t get rid of your dad so I mean, that’s fate for us” you can’t help the smile that makes its way onto your face. “I know” nodding, you set the glass down.

The bar door opens and Penny turns to yell at whoever it was. Jake stands there with his hands at his sides, a shy smile on his lips. “Hangman, we’re closed” she puts a hand on her hip. “I know, I uh-” he rubs the back of his neck, biting his lip. He was nervous.

“I wanted to talk to (y/n)” he says. She looks over at you, a knowing look on her face as you shake your head. “I won't be far” she whispers, walking back to the kitchen.  Jake makes his way to the bar, sitting in front of you. He watches as you continue shining the glass, avoiding his eye.

“Please look at me” his voice is soft, almost pleading. You look up from the glass, sighing. “What is it?” you ask, setting the glass down , resting your hands on your hips. “It really is nice to see you,” he says, looking over your face.

It’s then he notices the tear stains, as well as the way you continued to avoid his eye. “You look good” you say with a sad smile, looking over his face. You notice the crinkle in his eyes as his signature smirk makes itself known. “I know,” he admits, causing a soft chuckle to fall from your lips. “What do you want to talk about?” you ask. “I want to catch up,'' he adjusts on the stool.

“Maybe take you out to dinner?” he asks hesitantly as you sigh. “I don’t know Jake..” you whisper. “Please?” his eyes are pleading. If you only knew this was something he longed for.

The chance to see you again. The homecomings of everyone else getting to see their wives, remembering that it was almost the two of you.

He always kept your first homecoming in the back of his mind, everytime he flew.

You stood in the airport with a big neon pink sign. You knew it was cheesy and far from something your boyfriend wanted but you had to go big for him and his best friend’s return.

“WELCOME HOME LIEUTENANT’S!” The two men laugh as they come down the escalator. “That’s your girl” Javy whispers to his best friend as he laughs, nodding. “She is, I can’t say I’d trade her for the world” he smiles. Making their way to you, smiling. Dropping his bag, Jake catches your body as it collides with his, hugging him tightly as a koala would stick to a human.

With your legs wrapped around his waist, arms around his neck, he can hear your sobs. “Sweetheart” his voice is soft, reserved for you and you only. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry” you mumble as you're pulling away from his neck with a wide teary-eyed smile.

“God you look as good as you did when I sent you off” you grin, cupping his cheek. Javy scoffs beside him, shaking his head.

“Hi” you grin as Jake sets you to your feet, hugging Javy just as tightly. “Hi” he chuckles. Jake and Javy always knew you’d be there with awaiting arms to greet the both of them. 

“Okay” your voice pulls him from his thoughts, looking back up at you. “I’ll text you?” he asks, biting his lip. “Sure” you nod, sending him a soft smile. He was shocked his number wasn’t deleted and blocked. “Are you gonna make it home safe?” he asks, standing from the stool. You nod, looking at him, “I will, Bradley is gonna pick me up” he nods slowly.

Bradley Bradshaw was a man of many things and he always managed to get under his skin. “Okay, let me know when you make it?” he asks in almost a whisper. You smile, Jake was a knight in shining armor, he wore his gear proudly to protect the ones he loved, you included. “I will Jake” he smiles, walking to the door, turning to face you one last time.

“Goodnight sweetheart" he smiles at the soft blush on your cheeks.

“Goodnight Jake” you send him a soft smile.

-

It was a week before you found out the reason they were brought back to Fightertown. They were pulled back to Top Gun for a special mission, a dangerous detachment that none of the pilots in your life could talk about.

You only knew the basics that it was dangerous and that someone could possibly not come back alive.  Bradley sat across from you at the bar, a sad smile on his lips.

“He’s insufferable, how could you have possibly almost married him?” he asks, eyes landing on Hangman from over your shoulder. “He was very charming, '' you say, setting the new full beer bottle in front of him. “He’s gonna get someone killed if not himself” you nod, his words falling on deaf ears.

Jake Seresin held himself to a high standard, as soon as he joined the Navy he swore to himself that no one to ever see his flaws and to never let them see him fail.

“Sweetheart” you look up at the sound of his voice, looking at him over your shoulder with raised brows. He sends you the same smile that he always reserved for you, soft and full of love. 

“What is a gorgeous thing like you doin back there servin beers?” Jake smiles at you, leaning his elbows on the bar. You turn to him with a raised brow, chuckling.

“Because some of us don’t fly planes for a living, '' you say with a chuckle, setting the fresh beer in front of him. His smile was wide and somehow soft. “How did you know I fly planes for a living?” he asks, his head tilting slightly.

You chuckle with a shake of your head, “I know your type plus I know what a pilot looks like '' looking him up and down you sigh. “And you fit the part,” you grin.

He stood in his civilian clothes, a pair of dark wash wrangler jeans and a simple dark green polo. “I’m at the Fighter Weapons School here on base” he says with a smirk, you laugh. “You are a Top Gun pilot?” you ask, his brows raise.

“You know about Top Gun?” he asks, your laugh continues. “My father graduated from Top Gun '' you say proudly. “My uncle runs the school” his eyes widened, “Iceman is your uncle?”. You nod, looking him up and down.

Jake Seresin knew at that moment, he’d marry the woman behind the bar.

“Same as always?” you ask. He nods, watching Rooster over your shoulder. The two men shared a similar look, both ready to pounce if one said the wrong thing. “Can you two not kill each other?” you ask, looking between the two of them. Setting the beer in front of Jake, you smile. “Here” his grin grows. “Thanks sweetheart” he winks, the blush makes its way to your cheeks.

You were his sweetheart, people had their highschool sweethearts, college sweethearts, you were Jake Seresin’s Top Gun sweetheart.

“Gross'' Bradley whispers more to himself as he sips his beer. You let out a heavy sigh. “He’s just being nice Brad” he rolls his eyes. “He wants you back, don't you know?” he says, looking at you.

“He’s gonna leave again Bradley and I’m not putting my heart through that. I’m here for when he returns to North Island and nothing more” you say with more bite behind your bark.

He holds his hands up in defense, “I’m sorry”. You shake your head, looking at him, “I know you don’t know exactly what happened but trust me, my heart can’t take that” he nods, watching the look on your face.

He didn’t miss the look of sadness that you quickly covered with a smile. 

Locking the door behind yourself, you sigh. The Hard Deck never fails to tire you out but you wouldn't trade it for the world.

“Need a ride?” you jump, looking over your shoulder at the voice. Jake stood at the end of the Hard Deck stairs, leaning on the post. You sigh, shoving the keys back into your purse. “I can walk" you say, shoving your hands into your pockets.

“I just want to talk (y/n)” he says, looking you over. “I know, but I-I don’t know if I’m ready for that” it felt weird voicing your thoughts out loud. Jake nods, hands in his pockets. “I never meant for this to be how we turned out, '' he says. 

The rain poured heavily outside. It continued to slam against the windows. “I am heading to Germany in literally two days time, are you serious?” his voice was sharp,his eyes even sharper as he looked at you. “Yes” you are looking up at the man infront of you.

“Yes Jake, I’m sorry that you are going to Germany and could possibly have a child by the time you come back! Whenever that could be!” you yell, standing your ground. A late period starting the whole argument.

“I can’t have a child (y/n), I can’t possibly go to Germany and know that's happening here!” he defends, hands on his hips. “Jake, I understand that but what about me?! You are leaving me here!” you defend as he shakes his head. “You know how I feel about children, how could you let this happen?” you scoff, looking at him.

“Me?! You are the one who can’t keep his hands to himself!” you yell back. The thunder outside was no louder than your thoughts. “Jake, it’s me, we're gonna get married and start a family” he scoffs.

“Did you cheat on me?” The silence could be cut with a dull knife.

“Excuse me?” you ask, looking him up and down. “Did you cheat on me? There's no way that it could possibly be mine” you laugh. You laugh in his face. “I can’t believe you” you shake your head and begin pacing the kitchen. He sighs, hands on his hips.

“I don’t think we should get married,” he says in a whisper.

“I mean, my career is taking off, I could land a captain spot anyday and I don’t think I need this tying me down” he doesn’t miss the softness in your voice. You nod, pulling the engagement ring off of your finger and shoving it in his hands.

“Get out” you shove past him, ignoring him and the thunder that boomed outside of your once loving home.

Within three days you were sitting empty on the bathroom floor, the pink stick held tightly in your hands as you saw the lines that confirmed your biggest fear.

You were pregnant. 

The pouring rain felt good on your burning skin, you went to the once place you knew you could. Pounding on the door, you ignore the ache in your chest as you hold the stick tightly in your hands. “Oh my god” Sarah’s voice is soft as she takes you in.

Tears now running with the rain as you stood soaked on her doorstep. “I-Is uncle Ice here?” you're whimpering as she’s pulling you out of the cold. “Tom!” she yells for her husband who worked at his desk upstairs. “What is it sweetheart?” he stops at the top of the stairs as he takes in your state.

In the days of Tom Kazansky raising his own children, you meant as much to him as his oldest daugher. “(y/n)” he’s rushing down the steps, wrapping you in his arms. You sob into his hard chest as he nods to Sarah, “get me a towel”.

He ignores the pink stick in your hand, he ignores the voice in his head that urges him to call your father. Even though he was off on a detachment that sent him to a different side of the world.

“I’ve got you honey” he’s kissing your forehead gently, swaying your shaking body.

“Sweetheart, you with me?” his voice pulls you from your thoughts, looking up at him.

“Why didn’t you want a family with me?” you ask with a shakyness. “Why was I not enough to hold onto in Germany?” you're crying now. He’s taking the steps two at a time, making his way to you. “I should’ve never said those things to you” he says, stopping infront of you.

“I should have been honest with you and told you I didn’t think I was ready to be a father, a husband” he takes your hand. You shake your head, pulling your hand from his.

“I suffered alot while you were in Germany, I should not have gone through that alone and I did Jake '' you say, voice shaking. Stepping away from him, his face turns to confusion. “I took a test about three days after you left,” you say, hugging yourself as you turn away from him.

“It was positive,” you whisper. “I carried our babyboy for about two months, then I had a miscarriage” your voice shakes. “I suffered that loss with no one, not even my dad” you sigh, wiping your cheeks. “So I can’t just forgive you so easily Jake” turning to face him, his own tears began rolling down his cheeks.

"I had no idea if you were even alive” you say.

“I kept everything” he says, looking from your face to his shoes.

“What?” you ask, looking at him with furrowed brows. “If you only knew that I kept your letters, I kept your ring” he pulled the chain from his shirt, looking at you as the ring sat tucked between his dog tags.

“If you only knew that I couldn’t sleep for months on the carrier, Rooster had to listen to me toss and turn for days” he says, watching your face. “The only thing that got me through Germany was you” he looks away, letting his tears fall freely.

“You never mentioned our son in your letters” he says with his own voice breaking. “I know, I didn’t think you cared” the admission hit him harder than he wanted to admit.

“I did, I cared about you for so many years (y/n), I still care about you”.

The sound of gravel pulls the two of your eyes away from each other. Bradley climbed out of the Bronco, hands on his hips. “Hangman” his tone was defensive. “(y/n), you okay?” he asks, climbing the stairs.

“I’m okay Brad, I promise” you say with a smile. “I think we should talk about this another time” you say, looking at Hangman. “You have an important mission coming up, you gotta be on your game” walking past him, you pat his shoulder in support.

“(y/n)” his voice is pleading, looking at you. “I love you” shaking your head, you sigh. “Good luck Jake” you make your way down the steps and to the Bronco.

Jake can’t help the chill that runs down his spine at the daggers Rooster sent his way. He knew Bradley loved hard and if you hurt someone he loved, he came with a vengeance.

Bradley ignored the tears stained on your cheeks as he started the car, driving towards your shared apartment.

The apartment was a mess. Bradley couldn’t ignore the nag in the back of his mind, this wasn’t you. “Dove?” he asks through the apartment. He had no idea if you were even here. “Roos?” you try to stand from the bathroom floor, wiping your mouth with a towel.

He catches you before you can make it off the floor, looking you over. “Hi” your voice is hoarse from the last twenty minutes of vomiting.

You are sniffling as his brown eyes soften.  “I-I’m sorry I wasn’t there-” he cuts you off, shaking his head. “What is going on?” he asks, moving into the bathroom dropping all of his bags at the door.

Shaking your head and holding your arms out to him, he helps you off the cold floor. “I missed you” you whisper, hugging him tightly. “I missed you too, now tell me what’s going on, are you sick?” he asks with worry in his voice. It’s then he notices the small bump.

“You're pregnant?” he asks as you nod slowly,looking up at him as the tears begin to cascade down your cheeks like a river. 

“Dove?” you look over at the sound of Bradley's voice. “You okay?” he’s whispering, the Bronco now parked in the apartment parking lot. “No,” you admit, looking at him.

His eyes soften, he takes your state in then. “I told him” your voice breaks as you admit it, looking away from him as if he'd be disappointed in you. “I told him I lost our baby and-” its then a sob falls from your lips.

“Hey” he’s reaching over, taking your hand in his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. “It’s okay” he’s smiling sadly at you. “He told me he kept all my letters and-" you're hyperventilating now, looking at him.

“Why did he keep them if he didn’t love me enough to stay Roos?”

You ask and his heart breaks for you. “Let’s get you inside” he’s climbing out of the driver side, making his way to the passanger side. Your body falls into him as he helps you out. Scooping you up in his arms, he carries your body up five flights of stairs to the apartment the two of you were sharing.

By the time he makes his way to the front door, he notices your body had relaxed and your sobs quieted down, you had fallen asleep.

“Goodnight dove,” he lays you down and tucks the covers around your body, leaning down kissing your forehead gently.

He will be having a long conversation with Hangman tomorrow. 

-

The California sun was hot. Beating down on the pilots as they dripped with sweat. Standing on the deck beside Penny, you grin. “Are you having fun eye-fucking my father?” you ask, startling her.

She drops the pen she was holding, looking up at you with a smile. Your face was swollen, she chose to ignore it.

“Maybe” she grins, looking back out at the game. Following her gaze, you smile at the pilots, missing the way the altercation on the sand looked nothing more than a simple game of football.

Rooster pushes Hangman as they both go for the ball, not missing the way he’s being a bit aggressive for a game of football.

“What the fuck Bradshaw!” he’s yelling, standing from the sand, looking at the mustached man. “Really?!” he throws his hands up. “How does it feel to be pushed around Hagman!” He points at Jake, standing taller than the blonde aviator.

“Excuse me?” Jake tries sizing him up, looking up at Rooster.

“You came back here and broke her heart all over again, Hangman” he pushes Jake's chest. The man stumbled slightly, and then he laughs, Jake Seresin laughs in his face.

“That has nothing to do with you” Rooster shakes his head, his own sinister laugh. “It does when I’ve picked up the pieces more times than you have! You know what she asked me? She asked me why you didn’t love her enough to stay and truly I think we’re all waiting for that answer!” he yells, and before he knows it, his fist is connecting with Jake’s jaw.

“That’s for my sister you fucker!” he yells as Maverick is between the two of them, pushing their chests away from the other.

“What is going on?!” Maverick yells, looking between the two panting men. “Hangman is a worthless excuse for a man” he pants, seething as Phoenix holds him back.

“What is he talking about?” he asks the blonde. You stand on the steps watching them, quickly making your way down the sand. as soon as you noticed Rooster swing. “What is going on?” you ask, standing behind the group.

“Jake was finally gonna tell us what happened” Rooster pants, his hand gripping phoenix's comfortingly. “How he got you pregnant and left you picking up the pieces all alone” he spits “living up to your call-sign aren't ya?”.

Maverick looks between the pilots, then back at you. The color in your face is gone.

“Is that true?” Maverick asks, looking between you and then back at Jake.  His green eyes meet yours, then looking back at your fathers. “Yes” his voice is hoarse. His jaw is sore but he knows it doesn’t compare to the pain you've felt.

“That’s how our engagement ended, but Bradley” you look over at him, his eyes softening. “There was no need for you to air out Jake and I’s dirty laundry” you snarl. You meet your dad’s softening eyes, “you are all dismissed” he says.

He makes his way beside you, wrapping you in his arms. “When did this happen?” he whispers as the group makes their way up to The Hard Deck.

“You were in the desert, about two years ago, I went to Uncle Ice” you whisper, hugging him just as tight. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” he admits. You shake your head against his chest, squeezing him. "It's not your fault dad” he kisses the top of your head, mumbling against your hairline. “I will make him do extra training,extra push ups if I don’t kill him first” he smiles as you chuckle. 

“I’ll have a beer Penny” Jake’s voice is soft as she sends him a glare. She never was one to discriminate against a customer but she knew your pain. She went through almost the same pain with your father. “I should kick you out of my bar” she seeths, setting the bottle down in front of him, “but I won't because I know that’s not what she would want” he nods with a sigh.

“I really do love her Penny” he looks up at the woman, who shakes her head. “You need to prove it, Hangman” she makes her way over to Bradley with a smile.

“I’m sorry for causing a scene” he apologies to Penny as she shakes her head. “You are just being a big brother, I understand” she smiles giving him the opened beer.

“What the hell man?” Coyote sits beside his best friend, looking over his face. “I know” he admits, setting the bottle down, letting the amber liquid run down his throat. “I’m not proud of it,” he says, looking over at Coyote. “I told her I didn’t want a family, I-I accused her of cheating on me. I told her my career was more impaortant than a family” he scoffs at himself, “sick”. He sips the beer again.

“You need to fix this man,” he says to his best friend. Jake nods, looking out at the beach at you and Maverick, talking and hugging. He knew the rocky relationship the two of you had. “I know”.

-

Maverick stood at the door, he hated having to do this. He watched as you and Penny danced around the other, Bradley stood beside him. You stood at the bar standing beside Penny,looking between your father and Bradley, they stood dressed in their whites.

“The mission got moved up” Maverick says, his eyes falling to Penny with sympathy. “Go” you whisper to her, giving her arm a reassuring squeeze as the two of them go outside.

“Dove” looking up at the sound of Rooster’s voice. You tried to wrap your head around the timing.

A week ago, Jake was walking back into your life as well as Bradley and your father, now they were leaving again. Four days ago you finally told the love of your life the two years of hell you went through without him.

Now, they are leaving. “I think you should talk to Hangman” your eyes snap up to his brown ones, they held sympathy. “Why?” you ask, looking him up and down. He looked just like his father.

“We may not come back from this,” he says. “You better come back from this Bradshaw” you didn’t mean for it to come out so mean. He laughs with a nod, he knows you didn't mean it. “I will do my best, I got my girls to think about” he smiles at the smile on your face. He meets you halfway around the bar, wrapping you in a tight hug.

“I love you, Dove” he whispers as you squeeze him tighter. “I love you too, Rooster”. After a tearful goodbye with your father between both you and Penny, you reach for your phone. 

Jake's phone pulls him from his thoughts, looking down at the message across the screen.

Sweetheart: I need to see you.

His heart sank as another followed,

Sweetheart: meet me at the hard deck in 15?.

You were nervous, chewing on your lip as you looked at Penny. “Bradley is right, you need to talk to him” she smiles as you nod, looking down at your phone.

Read: 9:45pm.

You scoff, shoving the phone back into your pocket. Twenty minutes later you find yourself sitting on the sand. Penny shoved you out the door to take a break. “I thought I’d find you out here” turning around, you meet Jake dressed in his whites, hat in hand. You stand, looking him over, he smiles shyly.

“I need to say a few things” you say, looking over his face as he nods. “Go ahead” he says, moving to stand in front of you. “I-I still love you, I know seeing you has brought these things to the surface that I thought I could avoid” you avoid his eye as you continue.

“The things you said to me two years ago and then the way you act now, I-I want to forgive you” you look up at him, his eyes sharing a similar hopefulness. "I don't want to love another human being as much as I love you." Your voice shakes as you continue, "I don't want to give my heart to a stranger all over again" looking over his face, his eyes were so full of love, love you hadn't seen in years.

“I don’t want you to go on the mission thinking about me and your mistakes and-” he cuts you off then, his lips meeting yours for the first time in three years. It takes you a minute to catch up and when you do, you are pulling him by his jacket closer to you.

“I think about you every time I fly, I have since the day I walked into that bar” he whispers against your lips, nudging your nose with his. “But since the day I went overseas, I’ve held you closer to my heart” he admits. “If you only knew how much I love you” he says as his breath fans over your face.

“If you only knew that I kept everything, every photo, every text message, every letter and your goddamn ring, I kept the key to the apartment” he rambles, hand falling to yours.

“It’s always going to be you (y/n) Mitchell” he looks over your face.

“I can’t sleep without you, my bed is cold, I don't think I've had a good night’s sleep in two years” he chuckles as you sniffle.

“Make it back to me in one piece okay?” you whisper, looking up at him with tears in your eyes. He cups your cheeks, his calloused thumb catches the tears, a teary smile on both of your faces.

“Sweetheart, I would swim oceans and crawl through fire to get back to you, you breathe life into me” he smiles at the small smile on your lips.

“Go in open minded, don’t think about me, don’t think about the past, don’t think about anything but protecting yourself” he nods, smiling down at you. “Maverick and Rooster too” he adds with a wink.

You knew deep down they were all fond of the other, they would never admit it though. “I want you waiting for me” he grins, leaning down to connect your lips again.

“You got it” you agree, kissing him as if he’d slip from your fingers and you’d wake up from this dream.

Jake made his way on the tarmac to the two people he dreaded having to talk to. Phoenix, Bradley and Maverick stood around the plane, stopping their conversation at the sight of the blonde.

He gulps, looking between them all. “Rooster” he nods, looking him up and down as Bradley excuses himself from the two.

“What is it Hangman?” he asks, adjusting the aviators on his nose.

“Thank you” Roosters furrows his brows as he looks the man up and down. He never expected Hangman to be thanking him. “You showed me I was not worthy of a woman like (y/n)." He looks over Bradleys face as he continues.

"I know that now and I now am gonna strive to be the man she deserves, the one she was gonna marry those years ago” he nods, Bradley can’t help but puff out his chest. He was protective of you.

“And thank you for convincing her to talk to me, I don’t think I could fly this mission with the thought of never seeing her again” his voice is soft as he makes the admission to the one person he never expected.

“Lastly” he looks up at Rooster with his signature Hangman smirk, “give em hell”.

-

It had been two days. You heard radio silence from every party. Checking in with Penny to see if she heard nothing, she was as in the dark as you were. No one knew if the mission was a success.

You threw yourself into work to keep your mind off it. “Penny!” you yell, pushing out of the kitchen doors with a case of beers in your arms.

“I mean I’m not penny but, will I surfice?” you turn at the sound of your fathers voice, gasping. “Dad!” you shove the case onto the table running into his awaiting open arms. “Hi sweetheart” he smiles, giving you a squeeze. “Are you okay?” you gasp, pulling away from his chest to look him over. He chuckles, looking down at you with a smile.

“I’m fine” he grins, rubbing your back. “C’mon I have something to show you” he smiles, leading you out the front door of the Hard Deck. He couldn’t believe the boys put him up to this.

The blue Bronco came speeding down the road.

The speakers loudly played Take My Breath Away as the cheers of the Aviators could be heard miles away. Standing on the back of the Bronco stood Jake Seresin still dressed in his flight suit, singing loudly as he got closer to the hard deck.

“My Love, Take My Breath Away!” he grins, watching the smile on your face.

Bradley smirks as he parks the bronco. You laugh, running down the steps quickly. Jake jumped from the back of the Bronco, catching your body as it collides with his.

“Sweetheart” he laughs, hugging you tight. Just like when he came home from his first deployment, you clung to him like a koala, sobbing into his shoulder.

Jake Seresin was a simple man, he wanted three things in life, love, a wife and a family.

And here he was holding his world in his arms again, building his family piece by piece.

“I’m here” he whispers, fingers tangling in your hair as you sob. “Oh my god you idiot” you laugh between sobs, pulling away to kiss him as if he’d fade away from your arms. The kiss was sloppy but full of love.

“If you only knew how much I love you” he whispers once the two of you part, you sniffle with a smile.

“I may have a little bit of an idea” you laugh, kissing him again. 

-

if you enjoyed this fic, you can find all of my other work in the library, here <-

if you would like to listen to the song this fic is based on, you can find that here &lt;-

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[purelyfiction]

is it too soon to do this yet? - jake 'hangman' seresin x f!reader

Word Count: 1,977 words

Summary: this aint for the best, my reputation's never been worse so, you must like me for me. we can't make any promises now can we babe? // is it cool that i said all that? is it chill that you're in my head? cause i know that it's delicate. is it cool that i said all that? is it too soon to do this yet? 'cause i know that it's delicate.

Content Warning: fluff!! possibly insta-love for those put off by that.

Author Note: first: i wrote something?? on time??? second: for @ohtobeleah 's galentines writings :))) unedited/unbetaed we die like idiots

you had been here for a good time. your friend was getting married and her bachelorette was taking place in this quiet coastal town near a naval base. had that been part of the appeal? absolutely. who didn't want to watch a bunch of walking red flags as they did their daily trainings on the beach?

a little dive bar friday night with a shoddy jukebox, cheap beer and countless sailors - it had been the most fortunate surprise when you'd walked in with no other plans but to show off your sashed friend.

luckily for your group, sailors were suckers for a good bride to be and her girl crew. even luckier for you since you'd been playing DD for the last three days of the five day trip and you were finally able to take a damned sip of alcohol, which you rightfully deserved. glass in hand, you approach the jukebox to survey the music choices as the other girls were served shots (you wanted a drink not a hangover). you're about to pick out a song when you realize the machine hadn't been modernized and it still took cash. sadly, you spin back to the bar but not before dousing the man behind you in the makings of your whiskey sour.

"fuck, i am so sorry-" a hand grips your arm and he shakes his head.

"no, no, don't worry, i'm just upset on your behalf. what a waste of good whiskey." you look up, green eyes charming their way into easing your guilt. "I was gonna offer you a song, but ugh- maybe i ought to offer you a drink instead?"

he ends up buying both.

and as your friends sing along to the ancient song on the jukebox, you sit with this lone aviator and get to know him. long after your friends have retreated to the airbnb.

it was funny to think that was almost a six weeks ago. you'd flown to california for one week of fun and never went back, thanks to a rouge cowboy with eyes that matched the jumpsuit he donned to work each day.

you'd been crashing at an short-term rental since your friend's bachelorette, save for the weekend of the actual wedding, when jake had been your plus-one. everyone had relished in how the string of fate had connected you like this.

they'd also spoken of how insane you were. to uproot your entire life for the sake of what was supposed to be a one night fling. but it didn't bother you. not when the expansive reach of his hand had guided you through crowds that night. had danced with you and made a part fool of you both. i am a fantastic dancer, i have no idea where these guys are getting the idea i'm a trainwreck. his voice so easy and content on the drive back to the hotel that night.

now here you were, cooking for the two of you in his apartment as you waited on your boyfriend to get back from work. the label was maybe a week old at this point, but it fit him like a damn glove. so much so you'd started reaching out to potential leasers to sublet your apartment back home. maybe you were rushing into this. your job had been fine with you staying out in california longer - you were remote anyways, that had been the main perk of the job. but moving? for a man you'd known maybe a month?

the door slams shut and the entire apartment shakes. jake's place was small, tiny even, so you're greeted with his tense expression the minute you look up from your spot at the kitchen counter. "hey baby, how was-"

"fine." he grits the word out, dropping his duffel to the floor and disappearing down the hall. the bedroom door shuts with a click instead of a bang this time.

this wasn't boding well for you. you had a grand plan to make dinner, watch movies and have a nice and easy night in together, maybe talk for a bit. you'd wanted to discuss going to see an apartment this weekend. you didn't want to move in together, but you needed to look for a place of your own instead of crashing here so much. if this was going down that road. yet, the pilot seems to be in the worst mood to have that kind of discussion.

when he finally comes back to the kitchen, he slinks in behind you and presses a quick kiss to your head. "how was that call you were dreading." he's changed out of his uniform, a pair of sweatshorts on his waist, a dark t-shirt on his shoulders as he glides to the fridge. the tension is still carried in his frame even if he isn't outwardly acting as if there is something bothering him.

"ugh, it was - it was fine." now you're shutting off just like he was. it might be just you mirroring his actions, or maybe it was more. uncertainty? uneasiness? doubt?

the crack of teeth on an apple pulls you from your mind. you look to the fruit in his hand as he steps out to the living room on the opposite side of the kitchen wall. "i- dinner is almost ready, you know."

the tv stirs to life, echoing off the walls of the bachelor pad. the lack of decorations or real furnishings had been one of your reasons for wanting to pull the trigger on the move. to have some of your belongings back in your life, some familiarity.

"yeah, i'll eat." finally you're over it. you're not taking this from him, not when you had shit on your own mind that needed to be addressed. turning the burner off you step out of the kitchen, coming to the coffee table and snagging the remote. with it switched off, he looks at you with offense. "i said i'd eat what is the big deal?"

"what is going on with you?" your hands come across your chest as hangman snags the apple with his teeth as he dives into his pocket for his phone.

"nut-ing" the word comes out odd since his jaw is unable to move. you raise your eyebrows at him, which earns a similar reaction from the blonde. groaning he pulls the apple from his mouth. "rough day at work. got my ass handed to me by my superior, everyone talking shit because i flew better than anyone else- just in a piss poor mood. i'm sorry." you stare at him with concern now. it was just a bad day? then why was he suddenly as secure as a vault? locked away with high tech security and an obnoxiously long passcode.

"that's not all of it." you pry, slowly coming to sit down next to him. but when you do, he immediately stands up.

"yeah it is." he moves over to the kitchen again, tossing the apple core away. frustration eats at you again, tilting your head as your tone sharpens as he starts to step down the hallway.

"are you going to talk to me like your girlfriend or just like some bitch you're keeping around? cause right now it feels more like the second one." he freezes and his head drops back.

"look, i don't do the talking about emotions thing, i don't do the-"

"oh bullshit." you stand and march down the hallway, coming to stand behind him as his head sinks. "you put your heart on your sleeve when i saw you cry at dane and avery's wedding. and when you laughed to me about your childhood dog when you were drunk the night before at the rehearsal. or how you just seemed to stare at me with no concern in the world when we went out for ice cream last week - you do emotions. you do them and you feel them more heavily than most people i know." he slowly spins to look at you. "so start talking." the command is softer than the rest of your words.

finally, he relents. you sit on the couch with bated breath as he explained that he doesn't have the social life he had presented to you that first night. that his coworkers all think he's an asshole, that he's a dick and he isn't the kind of person to be friends with. "up until now, i didn't think i was the kind of person to be a boyfriend, let alone a friend."

it stung a little. jake as little as you had known him, had been one thing - confident. reassured in his personality and his work. he had this charisma around him that lured you in without him needing to really try. "i don't know how you believe that." you speak softly, pushing hair out of his face as it falls, gel from this morning weak from the impact of G-force pressures and california humidity. "you're a fun guy. you always make me laugh. i feel so.. safe around you. it's hard to imagine anyone else not appreciating that like i do."

jake's laid back on the couch now, looking up at you before looking at the ceiling. "yeah, well i guess the reality is that i'm easy to hate, hard to love. an acquired taste."

"that couldn't be further from the truth." it slips out so easily. green eyes perk up in curiosity.

"angel, i'm- to make it quick, i'm a menace. people know my callsign and they know my reputation. a selfish dick looking to get to the top and on top of women. hell, i don't know why you've stuck around as long as you have, so clearly somehow i've rubbed off on you."

your legs shift as you try to adjust on the couch to look at him better. "jake, i'm not going to be that girl. it would be a little weird if i was that girl, i mean, it's been what, a month?" he's slowly raising onto his elbows when you start in your ramblings, "but, you just- you take me by surprise in the best way, at every turn. yeah, sure they have some idea of you but it's not jake. it's not the guy who's impulsively buying karaoke machines to have idiotic nights in, or the guy who's sneaking pictures before anyone can notice because you're sentimental. or even the guy who hides the tears in his eyes at the end of how to train your dragon-"

he points at you with an amused expression, "you saw the way that dragon curls around him, he saved him." you can't hold back the laugh.

"my point is: hangman is so, so far from jake. cause i mean, i love jake, he's... he's my guy. and i don't get what's so hard to love about that." you give a small smile until it computes in your head what you've said. "i ugh..." jake keeps a coy grin on his features, leaning into his chin now that he's rolled onto his stomach, knowingly catching onto what you've said. "is it cool that i said that? i mean i- we can pretend that i didn't and forget this ever happened-"

he cuts you off with a soft press of lips to your own. the taste of apple juice still lingers on his chapped skin, before he pulls away. "it's cool." he offers, a hand coming to take your own.

"i promise i won't say it again." there's a mad blush on your face and jake just laughs.

"ah, don't you go promising nothing. let's just go finish dinner, yeah?"

and jake takes his rightful place next to you at the stove, towering over you as his head bounces along to the music you've put on, glancing at apartment listings that you pull up.

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